All We Are
by Sheherazade's Fable
Summary: X-Men: First Class fic. As Charles struggles to get the school running Moira returns, determined to at least get proper goodbyes. Yet, with Erik getting his Brotherhood started, letting her go may be more dangerous than originally thought.
1. Chapter 1

Charles knew that they were angry with him. He didn't need to be a telepath to recognize it. It was in their careful responses and the side looks. Alex had been the first one he saw it in; his emotions were always an open book. That was what had probably landed him in jail in the first place. Sean had shown it through the longer than usual pauses in his speech and Hank, Hank had just become quieter.

The only reason their hostility wasn't open was, ironically, because of his other problems. They all still respected him, saw him as their savior and teacher. They knew that he was having a difficulty adjusting to the wheelchair and the loss of his sister and friend. Charles had to give a bitter smile when he thought of it. Even when they were angry they were still being considerate. He was someone you were **considerate **of.

All courtesy aside the anger was still there. Perhaps it had been made worse because they felt they couldn't say anything about it. Charles knew that they talked about it amongst themselves. He had no desire to know what it was that they said, what they theorized. It was enough for him to know that they were displeased. Anything after that was just unpleasant details.

He knew, without anyone saying a word, that it was about Moira. She hadn't played as big a role in the lives of the mutants as he or Erik had, but she had been there. She had been a physical reminder that humans could be trusted and that Shaw was wrong. Moira had shown that humans could be on their side, no matter what the opposition.

Ironically it had been the students who Moira had been closest to that had stayed on. She had never really gelled with Raven or Angel. The two of them had always been too independent to accept a government official wholeheartedly into their lives. Her presence had not been welcome to them. There were other factors, he was sure of that, but those who had not been friends with their resident homo sapien had joined Erik.

There were also various reasons why the boys had gotten along with her. Sean said she reminded him of his older sister whom he missed. Though Moira didn't understand most of what Hank had said, she had at least listened to him when he explained the difference between a particle and a wave. Alex had craved vindication, despite his delinquent status, and who better to give it than a CIA official?

So, as her friends, the boys had been reasonably upset when he sent her away without so much as a goodbye. No, he hadn't just sent her away; he'd tampered with her memories first. Charles hadn't consulted anyone about his plans, hadn't even shared doubts about keeping their location secure. As he had explained to them after the matter there had been no malice in his actions and no suspicion. He had just decided what had needed to be done and then done it; simple as that.

He had good reasons for proceeding like he had. For one thing he had been afraid that they would protest. Hank might not have; even now Charles could tell that he understood his choice. Alex and Sean were a different story. It might take days that they didn't have for him to convince them that erasing her memories of the school was the best choice available.

Even Moira might protest. She would, of course, have to be told if she was going to be given appropriate goodbyes. She might have felt like it was a betrayal of the trust she had unconditionally given them. He did have to admit that it was a poor payoff for everything she had done. Charles didn't blame her for that, but again it was something that they didn't have time for. She would have to go back to the CIA at some point.

The third reason was himself. Charles hadn't wanted to do that to her. He'd been impressed by her bravery, tenacity, trust, acceptance, and intelligence. He made no secret that he had been attracted to her. And he knew she harbored feelings for him. They had seemed on the brink of something before Cuba. Then there had been the tempestuous weeks in the hospital. He had witnessed her steadfast attempts to keep their location secret in the hospital. After that she had firmly shooed away CIA agents who tried to interview him in his sickroom.

Some of that was guilt. He had told her that she had done the right thing on the beach, something he firmly believed. She had attempted to distract Erik, to make him drop more missiles. Moira had even aimed for his shoulder. If Erik had been thinking with his head and not letting his anger rule him then he would have seen that. His own injury was an accident, nothing more than extreme rotten luck. He wasn't sure she completely believed him, but she had swallowed her lingering guilt to try and help him in the hospital.

Overall Moira hadn't deserved to have those memories removed. Truthfully it would have been very easy for him to be convinced not to do it. Sean and Alex could have bombarded him. If they had pleaded enough then they could have brought Hank onto their side. With all of them against it it would have been hard. Especially if Moira had pleaded for her memories.

If that happened then he would have been left defenseless. Charles was very familiar with his own mind, how he would start to think. If they were all against it, then why should he have the final say? Shouldn't their opinions count for something? So even he would have worked against himself in the end. If he had waited on the decision, even by a day, then he might have talked himself out of it.

He kept telling himself she couldn't stay. She was the only member of their team who hadn't become a violent radical or retired to his school. Secrecy had to be their watchword and, as much as it had pained him to admit it, she was a loose end that needed to be tied up. He could deal with the resentment of his students; a resentment that he knew would lessen with time, if it kept them safe.

So he knew it was better that he had taken the decision on himself. They couldn't have a security risk. He felt disgusted when he thought of her as such, but it was true. She still worked for the CIA and they would see her as a continuous source of knowledge of their location unless **she didn't know it**. He could make that happen. He had. End of story. No matter how much he might have wished otherwise, the subject was closed.

Charles tried to shut the memory out with work. Since there was rather a lot of work to do it wasn't that difficult, although the memory never fully went away. Remodeling the mansion into a school was a harder job than he had originally imagined. He had seen it as a simple task. There were so many rooms; they could just add extra furniture. They certainly didn't lack for funds, his stepfather had seen to that. Dormitories could be designated and maybe he could better stock the library with more appropriate titles.

It wasn't until Hank had pointed out a fatal flaw did he see how complicated it really was. For a dormitory you would need more than just a few rooms with beds. Walls needed to be knocked down and electronic outlets installed. The kitchen would need to have more food storage facilities added. More bathrooms would have to be set up too; something so obvious he couldn't believe he'd missed it.

Luckily for him he had the cheapest, and most enthusiastic, wrecking crew in the world. Alex especially loved to tear down walls with his newly controlled powers. The noise on the first three days had been incredible. Hank had stayed with him, hovering nearby wondering if Alex was going to bring the mansion down.

Sean was good at ordering and directing the influx of furniture from the local town, but he was rather liberal with the paint for the new walls. Sometimes even Hank would join in for games that would leave the rooms messy and cans of paint wasted. At least he always volunteered to go back to the town to get more.

Charles also had to spend time finding teachers who would be willing to make the school feasible in the makeshift Cerebro that had been constructed. He wanted to keep the student to teacher ratio low, at least at first. Since he had received positive answers to his call for students, he and Erik had only had one negative response to their recruiting after all, he needed more teachers. There were promising responses from a few so far.

Sometimes Charles wondered if it was ever going to get done. It was just one of many things that woke him during the night in a cold sweat. Many, many piles of paperwork had to be put through before he could get permission to open up a private school. He had never thought that the bureaucracy would be this complicated when someone wanted to set up a school. So he had struggled with only Hank to help him on the finer aspects of legalizing Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

Finally the paperwork had gone through and children and teachers would be arriving in a few days. Classes had been sorted out and the kitchen was going to be stocked with food. There were only small, last minute touches to add on now. He realized he could do this, he could make it happen. Even as wiring problems built up he still had glimmers of hope, rushing around and trying to fix things.

Yet, all of this he did in a wheelchair he despised. The halls had never been more cluttered, more difficult for him to maneuver. He wanted to scream sometimes at the unfairness of it all. He should be helping put up new walls and paint, not just sit there watching approvingly. When students came he wouldn't be able to keep up with them.

His wheelchair was an almost constant source of grief. At the end of the day his arms ached from having to spin the wheels. He had never been very strong and it was coming back for him now. One of the boys had to help him with nearly everything he did. The feeling of helplessness built up, especially when he ran his wheelchair into the doorframe or couldn't turn it around.

In that frame of mind he wheeled himself into the mansion's library four months after he had been released to his home. He was exhausted but relieved to be free of problems for the day. The relief quickly faded when he saw the shape silhouetted by the window. Charles flipped on the light switch, more angry than anything.

The anger leeched out as he saw who it was. It was replaced by panic.

"The door was open, so I let myself in," Moira said, turning around, "I didn't want to bother anyone."


	2. Chapter 2

Of all the things he had expected to happen that day, it hadn't been this. He swallowed and pushed his wheelchair further into the room. It made clunky noises as he did so and once again he cursed his new state. Entering a room in a calm manner had been much easier when he just had to stroll in.

"I wasn't expecting the CIA to find me so soon."  
>Moira gave him a wry smile.<p>

"The CIA hasn't found you," she said, "I have."

"You're a CIA agent, ergo the CIA has found me," he said.

Charles knew he shouldn't be taking the tone he had adopted with her, but he couldn't believe that everything he had done to keep the school secret had been wasted. He wanted to articulate that to her somehow. She had more of a right to be angry than he did; he hadn't had his trust betrayed and his memories erased.

Moira laughed and sat down on one of the couches.

"I tendered my resignation four months ago Charles."

Another surprise. He frowned, folding his hands in his lap. More than ever he longed to read her mind, but at the moment he found that to be another betrayal of trust.

"Why?" he asked quietly

"Why?" Moira repeated, "Why. You can read my mind Charles. Why don't you tell me?"

He squirmed. Charles had never been particularly good with confrontations, especially when he had been the one at fault.

"I'd…prefer not to do that," he sighed, "I try not to be intrusive."

For that phrase he expected, in the very least, a biting remark. At the most he expected a slap. Instead he got a sigh.

"Charles…" she said.

He watched her close her eyes briefly as she tried to remember something. Her eyes opened again and stared at him. Despite his earlier statement he was tempted to read her mind. Moira's face was a myriad of emotions, and he couldn't help but wonder just what it was she was thinking.

* * *

><p>Moira blinked. She stared down the table at Director McCone and Agent Stryker. There were other faces, their expressions ranging from anger to curiosity. She continued to stare, blank-faced and seemingly dazed. Moira knew how it looked because she had practiced in the mirror. There was only one chance to get this right after all. She had failed at so much else; she needed to at least get this right.<p>

"You can really remember nothing?" demanded McCone.

"I remember the events on the beach," Moira said truthfully, "but after that, nothing."

"He has that kind of power?" Stryker asked.

She wanted to smack him. Even after everything he still treated her as though she were a complete idiot, destined for nothing except surveillance work. He still refused to see that anything he did was wrong. Moira wished he didn't have the Director's ear. Maybe then things would be different. Now this wouldn't be over until he was gone. They would keep hunting Charles and the rest, treating them like they were Shaw until they caught and dissected them to find out what made them tick.

So, in a way, she understood what Charles had done. It hurt, but she understood. Now Moira needed to finish his work. She needed to destroy their leads. She needed to cut any idea that she could lead them to him from their minds. That was why she was pretending to be the hurt little princess from a fairytale. That was why she had practiced her next words in her head.

"I only remember glimpses," she said distantly, "Sunny skies…trees…"

The words made her sound silly. She knew that. They were nothing compared to what was coming. The next words would destroy her credibility completely. Thus they would hurt to say. They would ruin any chance she had for advancement in the CIA. If she was lucky she would continue to do surveillance for the rest of her life. Yet lives were at stake. She couldn't imagine what would happen to Hank, Sean, Alex, and know-it-all Charles if she didn't. Moira knew they were more important than her.

So she kept her face impassive but her voice a little breathless as she added;

"…a kiss."

There. She felt the titters across the table. The words were true, but they were something you would never, ever utter in a professional meeting. Ever since her last, disastrous romance she had never done anything as stupid as saying those words. Moira was surprised that they didn't choke her on the way out. Effectively she had killed her professional life.

"That's why women shouldn't be in the CIA," said McCone.

She wanted to scream, to tear her hair out, throw something. Yet, she was the one who had said those words. And she had had to do that. Moira sat motionless as the briefing ended, still keeping her face impassive. What would happen next would have to happen as well. She had accepted this ever since she had returned from the mansion. Oh yes, it must have been a mansion. Nowhere else could have had grounds like that.

McCone and Stryker stayed in the room once everyone else had left. McCone leaned back and sighed. Now for the final blow.

"I have to say that I'm disappointed in your performance Agent MacTaggart."

_I helped thwart a plot to destroy the world with nuclear missiles, _thought Moira, _What did you do that's so special?_

"We're going to put you on desk work for the next few months," Stryker added, his voice smug, "We'll see how trustworthy you are after that."

"William, no," McCone said, "This isn't about whether or not we can trust her. It's about whether or not we believe her performance has warranted disciplinary actions. She did poorly in this matter, that is all."

Even in her defense McCone was insulting her. Keeping a schooled expression she said;

"I respectfully decline."

McCone furrowed his eyebrow. Moira reached into the briefcase by her foot. She took out a paper and pushed it forward.

"I'm tempering my resignation," she said, "I expect to stay on for another week, while all the paperwork is filed. Then I'll go. No fuss."

**That** shocked them. She could almost have felt satisfied, if what she was doing didn't hurt so much.

"But…" McCone said, "You were one of our best surveillance agents. I am disappointed but you can get past this."

"Sir, I am never going to get past this," said Moira.

"This is about the beach, isn't it?" snapped Stryker.

She turned to him and gave him a blank smile.

"Yes, you're right about that. It is about the beach. But not the way you think," Moira said, "I understand that sometimes sacrifices have to be made. I understand that sometimes agents have to be collateral damage. I understand that, just like I've understood it from the first day I started working here."

Moira swallowed. This was as much of the 'real her' she was going to show them for the rest of her life. She might as well make it good.

"But I am not in the position to understand why underage civilians were going to part of that collateral," she said, "Nor the innocents who were responsible for avoiding nuclear war. The cost of the what you did was far too much."

Stryker was opening his mouth to interrupt but Moira plowed on.

"And maybe it was justified from your point of view," she said, "I don't know. And I honestly don't want to hear how you found it acceptable. It's enough for you that you understand it. But me, I will **never **understand it. And because of that, gentlemen, is why we must part."

She got up, briefcase in hand.

"So, respectfully, my resignation."

Moira nodded her head once at the men before walking out of the conference room.

* * *

><p>Charles was taken back. He paused, trying to formulate his words carefully.<p>

"You didn't have to do that."

"Yes I did," she said, "because I found you, didn't I? With those glimpses I found you."

"Which I'm still puzzling about," he answered, feeling defensive, "I erased all mentions of addresses, all outside views of the mansion, all sign posts-"

"Yes, but how many **normal** houses have sprawling grounds?" she interrupted, "Add a travel expenses receipt never submitted to that, and you have upstate New York. How many mansions do you think there are in upstate New York?"

"Several," Charles answered, still slightly dazed.

"You're right. From there I used my own deductive skills. They're not bad," Moira said.

She rested her arm on the couch. He swallowed again, not sure what to say.

"Oh, and before you ask, I lost my CIA tail two months ago," said Moira, "They wouldn't bother someone doing some translation work for a marketing firm, someone who proved herself to be less than an exemplary agent."

It hit him, the very thing he'd been worried about.

"You think I didn't trust you?"

Moira stared at him evenly.

"You needed to make sure there was no trail," she said, "I **understand**."

Her words were biting. She obviously didn't want to talk about it anymore, but Charles couldn't just let things lie

"I didn't know if they'd find some way to get it out of you!" Charles burst out, not wanting to directly reveal his worries about torture, "If they knew you couldn't remember anything then the pressure would be off, you could go one with your old career-"

"But you're forgetting one important thing. I can't go on with my old career anymore." said Moira, "Not with what I know. I can't get on with my work knowing what the Director of the CIA would willingly do to a perceived threat, no matter what the cost was. And-"

She looked away for a moment before looking back.

"The times in my life when I felt like I was making a real difference, doing some good, are few and far between," she said, "And one of them was when I was here."

Charles struggled to keep his face steady, to resist the temptation to go into her mind for even the briefest of seconds and fully understand. Yet, no, he couldn't do that to her. Her mind was out of bounds, even though he had the feeling that he'd once again have to make her forget the Institute's location.

Across from him Moira sighed.

"I know why you did what you did Charles," she said, "In your position I might have even done the same thing. But…I can't go around pretending like it didn't hurt. Because, and I say this just to be truthful, it did."

He moved his wheelchair so it was close to where she was sitting.

"I'm sorry."

Moira nodded. He placed his hand over hers and was relieved that she didn't pull away. Her skin was smooth and cool despite the heat of the coming summer. Charles watched as her eyes flickered from his hand to his face. She was looking at him intently, and he started to wonder about whether or not to kiss her. It probably wouldn't be appropriate, she might be rather suspicious of such gestures now, but he did want to…

"Thank you," she said.

"You're thanking me for apologizing to you?" asked Charles.

She laughed.

"I'm thanking you for feeling bad about doing what you had to do," she said, "It doesn't fix everything, but it certainly helps."

She smiled

"But you know, now that you're back," Charles said, "I…you see…I don't know if I should take the memories from you again or not."

Beneath his hand she stiffened. Then, surprisingly, she still didn't pull away.

"I thought you might say that," she said.

"You did?"

"I have had a long time to think about how this meeting might go. So yes, I thought it was a possibility," Moira said, "But you said you didn't know whether or not to do it. Things have…changed since the last time I saw you. The marketing firm I do freelance for now has another job for me in three months. Use that time to think about what you want to do."

Her words weren't angry, merely sad.

"I'll respect your decision and…if you take the memories again, I won' t try to fight it," she said, "I…I won't come looking for you again. I'll accept it."

"You will?" asked Charles.

She smiled again.

"I know when I'm not wanted," Moira said, "Now; it looks like things have been coming along well."

Charles took the out and began talking about the boys and their plans for the school. He mentioned the upstairs dormitories, the acceptance rate, and more information. He didn't tell her what was on his mind though; she was wanted. There was no doubt in his mind that she would see that the next time she saw the boys. He was only disappointed that she didn't know it from seeing him.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_I know it's more likely that Moira was still a little dazed from having so many memories removed that caused her blank expression in the conference room. However, any version where someone gets to pull one over on Stryker makes me happy. _


	3. Chapter 3

Moira was surprised at how well their first meeting had gone. She had, in her worst moments, thought that she would say hello and then she'd wake up twenty miles away with no memories for the past four months. It had been a ridiculous line of thinking, but when life got strange and suffocating it was too easy to slip into it.

Her reception by the boys went much better than it had with Charles. All of them had been excited to see her. She'd even been taken down by Hank's bone-crushing hug. Throughout the whole event Charles had sat on the sidelines, watching like an outsider. She wanted to make sure he knew that she didn't blame him, but she couldn't say anything like that in front of the boys. It was too private to be public.

Sean's enthusiasm over showing her the remodeling that they had done eliminated any remaining chance she might have had to tell him. Moira didn't have the heart to tell them that she didn't remember what the mansion had looked like before. So she nodded and moved with a faint expression of awe at what they'd done.

She'd been housed in one of the rooms that had been redone for faculty and guests. Moira saw several although she'd been told there were only going to be three new staff members. The dormitories were also more numerous than they needed to be. Charles was planning ahead. It was easy to see that y he envisioned the school full of mutants learning to control their powers for the good of the world.

The next morning she was woken up by Alex's rapid pounding on the door. They were making a last supply run to the town and he wanted to know if she wanted to come. Hank was even helping out, albeit in a hiding in the back of the covered truck and helping load things. He still wasn't fully comfortable with his appearance.

Not wanting to be alone in the large mansion she had accepted the invitation and hurried to get dressed. The ride down was noisy; due entirely to Sean and Alex. Charles smiled at them but rarely spoke. Moira started to wonder if his silence was caused by her arrival or if it had always been there. She could still see much of the same man she had known, but something was different. Something had been added, a seriousness that hadn't been there before.

She wondered about it as Sean and she went about their shopping. They had split into pairs, and she had been paired with the sonic mutant. Her answers to Sean were noncommittal and she spent most of her time still puzzling over Charles. Alright, teenage boys needed someone to set limits for them. A school would also need a firm hand leading it, especially in its infant stages. Yet, his seriousness was more than that.

On the beach he had lost more than anyone. He had lost his sister, friend and the use of his legs. At the same time Charles had seen that his dream could be turned in on itself. He had seen that a government he had believed in was not yet ready to honor them for their service. It would rather kill them then let them carry on.

Then, and she still wondered about this, he had taken away her memories. Had that also been contributing factor to his new somber attitude? Moira wouldn't say that she was more important than Erik or Raven had been. Rather she thought of herself as less so. Yet, she had worked with him. There had also been…something. Sending her away couldn't have been easy though, and might just have been the tropical umbrella in his bitter martini.

She sighed as they went into a store. Apparently her speech about how she understood his actions hadn't done anything to help. Next to her Sean walked on, oblivious to his companion's thoughts. Moira looked down at her watch, seeing that they only had a few minutes before meeting the others. She turned to tell him when she realized something. Trying not to sound as though she hadn't been listening on the way there, which she hadn't, she asked;

"Sean, we're supposed to be picking up last minute things like food and toilet paper, right?"

"Yeah," said Sean.

"So why exactly are we at the hardware store again?"

Sean looked at her like a deer in the headlights. He looked around him frantically and she wondered if he had somehow not known they were in a hardware store.

"Um…we need nails."

Moira looked at him evenly. It was a plausible enough explanation, but Sean's behavior was anything but.

"Nails," she repeated.

"Yeah, nails."

"For what?"

Again Sean looked confused and frightened.

"Things that…need to be nailed?"

She blinked at him, trying to figure out just who he thought he was fooling. Sean gave her a nervous glance and then stood on his tiptoes. At first she wondered why he was doing that, only to see that he was looking past her. His eyes had glazed over and a goofy smile come onto his face.

Moira followed his gaze to a teenager with red hair working behind the counter. She was, from what Moira could see, Sean's age and pretty. The girl looking away at the moment, stacking something on the shelves. Her eyes turned back to Sean's puppy dog gaze. When he noticed that she was looking at him he turned his head, blushing furiously.

"So," said Moira, "what's her name?"

"Who's?' he asked.

"Don't play stupid," she said, rolling her eyes, "What's her name?"  
>"…Maeve," he mumbled.<p>

"Pretty name," said Moira, "So, how long have you been coming to the hardware store because of her?"

"…about…four months."

"Four months," nodded Moira, "And are the two of you…?"

"No," Sean said, still looking away, "…neverevenspokentoher…"

"Wait, you've never even spoken to her?" asked Moira in disbelief, "Then how do you know her name?"

"She wears a name tag…" he muttered.

Moira put her hands on her hips. Sometimes teenage boys could be irrevocably dense. Even one as awkward as Sean should at least have summed up the courage to talk to her after crushing on her for four months. It made her want to smack her head in frustration while shaking him by the shoulders.

"Sean, you're really nice and one of the most loyal and brave people I've met," she said, "You've been given an incredible gift and have used it responsibly."

Sean narrowed his eyes, waiting for the compliment to turn sour.

"But I'm surprised that at your age you don't know that if you like a girl, but at the same time you don't talk to her, **nothing is going to happen**," emphasized Moira.

"Nothing will happen if I talk to her either," Sean said, snapping his head up, "Don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly smooth with the uh, girls."

Unfortunately she did know. Charles had related how they had found him, with Erik snickering in the background.

"But if you keep looking at her like that, going to certain places to see her, finding out her name without talking to her, then you're a stalker," Moira explained gently.

"But-"

"But nothing," said Moira, "Go talk to her."

"I…I can't."

"You can stop a nuclear war, you can do this," Moira said.

He shook his head.

"Sean," said Moira, deciding that the time for the carrot was over and it was time to apply the stick, "If you don't' go over and talk to her I'll tell Alex you ran away from a girl."

Sean looked at her in fear. Apparently she'd pushed the right button; Alex would never let him hear the end of it.

"You wouldn't," he said.

"I will," Moira answered, "I'll do it now in fact."

She turned and started to exit the store. Sean grabbed her arm.

"Let's not be hasty," he said.

"So you're going to talk to her?" asked Moira, "Because otherwise I'm telling Alex."

Sean looked at Maeve with terror.

"Even the bit about the four months."

He let go of her arm and started making his way over to Maeve. She smiled at him but, not wanting to be intrusive, left the aisle and headed towards the entrance of the shop. To her surprise Charles was already there, waiting patiently. He nodded at her approach and wheeled over to her.

"Of all the different ideas I had about helping Sean with his crush I never thought to threaten to tell Alex," he said.

She smiled; he was a telepath. Why wouldn't he have known?

"Of course not. You're too nice," she said.

Charles turned his head and smiled. Even though the gesture was small she felt something flutter in her stomach.

"Other than that, good advice I'd say," he said, "Heard the whole conversation?"

Charles tapped the side of his head. It was good to see that his humorous side hadn't disappeared entirely.

"Telepath."

"Of course."

He looked at her as though he was trying to make a decision. She stared at him and was surprised to see him squirm uncomfortably. Moira wanted to say something to him, but was interrupted by the arrival of Sean. By the disturbingly goofy smile on his face Moira could tell that at least his encounter had gone well.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_I know in the comics that Moira and Sean were a couple at one point, but in the comics Sean was also the same age as Charles and not a student. Don't think that's going to happen in the movieverse when she's about 28 and he's 16. However, I do imagine them getting along rather well. _


	4. Chapter 4

To Charles it was obvious how the schedule of their little 'family' was shaping up. Hank would always go to the lab in the norming, trying to find a permanent fix for Cererbro and ways to improve the Blackbird. He'd come out later in the day to see if anything needed doing around the mansion, but with students and staff arriving in three days, there was thankfully little to do.

Sean and Alex were continually exploring the grounds. It was a huge place and Sean had suggested that they do some camping with the students later in the year. They would return by lunch; or sometimes Sean would head down to the village to see Maeve. Charles didn't mind as long as the boy knew that he couldn't go off like that once school started.

Generally Moira would be helping Hank or doing odd jobs around the mansion. Embarrassingly Charles found himself keeping a running tab on where she was. He wasn't worried about her there; she got on well with the boys. He wasn't even worried if she would be fine when the new arrivals came. No, they'd probably be charmed just as much as his original three pupils. It was only his own attitude that made him want to know where she was. If he knew that then he could keep his distance and stop any awkwardness.

Sometimes awkward moments came without his help though. Once, in his presence while they were loading groceries into the refrigerator, Sean had remarked;

"Kind of a downgrade from your CIA job, eh?"

Charles wondered if he should privately tutor Sean in the art of not making such remarks. Even Hank, who made a few strange remarks himself, had winced. He had considered stepping in at that point, except that Moira had laughed at it. Only Charles looked close enough to see that there was a flicker of pain in her eyes. He was the only one who knew what her job at the CIA had meant to her, what it had meant that she had to quit it.

It had made him wonder what it had taken for her to confide in him that first night. He had guiltily thought back to the way he had essentially just dropped the subject and left the room afterwards. Keeping his distance had probably done more harm than good in that particular situation.

"You know something? It's not so bad. I haven't had to kill anyone in the past few days," she'd commented, her voice deliberately light, "So I suppose it's fine."

"Hey, you killed people? Fired at them out of a car?" asked Alex, interested, "Like James Bond or something?"

"No," she said, shaking her head, "I was in surveillance. Surveillance doesn't kill people unless things go really bad. I was too good for that."

Alex had looked a little disappointed, but the subject had come to a merciful rest after that. No other mention was made of her other job. He didn't know what the other boys thought of her recent appearance and not as a CIA attaché. They all probably figured that she had quit her job, but hadn't probed for details. Without the option to read her mind Charles could only suppose she was grateful for that.

He had to wonder at how active she kept. It might have been a smoke screen to take her mind off other things, just like he had done after the beach and sending her away. There had even been a few occasions where she had explored the grounds with Sean and Alex. Each time she had asked him if he wanted to come. There was an undercurrent of wistfulness in her voice that made him wish he could go with her.

Yet, he knew it was better to keep his distance. He also didn't want to be reminded about how difficult it was for him to traverse the grounds. Charles knew that one of them would offer to push him, but the dependence that implied set his teeth on edge. It wasn't their fault, but it was something that he wished to avoid if possible.

Besides, her pushing him would only do to bring back memories of their last fateful walk around the grounds. The conversation, the decision…the kiss. He discarded that memory with almost unnecessary force. Letting the past cloud his present judgment would not be helpful to anyone in the long run.

The thing about repressed memories was, of course, that were always there, just below the surface. It set up the possibility that he could give those back to her one day. She had certainly earned it. So if he decided to let her stay the least he could do would be to give them back. Yet, erasing her present memories would be difficult. The mind seldom fell for the same trick twice.

He glanced at her, sitting at the table in the kitchen and eating oatmeal. There was a larger one in the dining room for their first crop of students. For now though, they ate around the small one in the kitchen. He saw that Alex was trying to see if he could throw a spoonful of cheerios at Hank across the table. Sean looked on with interest.

"Alex," Moira said, "I suggest you don't throw that."

Alex put his spoon down, affecting an innocent look.

"Who, me?"

Hank glared at him.

"You were going to throw cereal at me?" he growled.

"Hey, it's her word against mine," said Alex, keeping his voice completely innocent, "Who are you going to believe?"

There was a long silence.

"I think I should rephrase that," Alex said.

"Look," Hank said, jabbing his spoon towards Alex, "If you throw cheerios at me then they're going to get stuck in my fur. Then I'm going to be cleaning cereal out of my fur all day long. You think you have bad hair days, pretty boy? It's nothing on me. So if you even look at me wrong then I'm going to throw this stupid table at you . Then I'll come for you."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Trust me when I say that you'll tire before me."

"Yeesh, yeesh," muttered Alex, "Innocent until proven guilty in this country Hank."

"As you well know."

"Yeah, they always say that when-hey!"

Laughing Charles turned his attention to the news. Ever since they had made the kitchen bigger a small T.V had been installed there. Alex generally liked to switch it to comedy variety shows. He would get up early in the morning in order to do so, something that Charles had never understood.

Unfortunately for him he'd slept in and Charles had gotten there first. Now he could eat breakfast and watch the news at the same time. Charles had always tried to stay abreast of current events. He read the paper every day and watched at least an hour of news, morning and evening edition. It never ceased to amaze him the number of things that could happen in a day, although things had cooled down considerably since the missile crisis.

"The President is expected to make an announcement concerning our Space program later this evening," the news anchor said, "Stay tuned for that."

Charles would. The idea of space travel was intriguing to him, even though it wasn't his area of expertise. He went over to the toaster and put two slices in. The rest of it was easy to grab; the kitchen was set up in a way that had been familiar to him since childhood. The news made for soothing noise in the background as he brewed his tea and spread butter on the toast when it came out.

He put the butter knife down and picked up one of his pieces of toast. It was just something that he was used to by that point; get up and have tea and toast. Sometimes Charles wished that he could make something else up, but his wheelchair made it impossible to do by himself. He didn't want to bother anyone about it; not when they were all settled in.

"And now," the news anchor said, "A special bulletin coming in from Vermont."

Charles finished the first slice and started in on the second. He could see that Alex was once again trying to throw something at Hank.

"Vermont First National Bank was reportedly robbed of a million dollars today. Several security guards were injured. Two dead."

Finishing up on the second slice of toast Charles reached for his tea.

"Authorities say that Erik Lensherr is the culprit."

The cup stopped halfway to his lips. All noise from the table stopped.

"They say that this is the same Erik Lensherr, who destroyed a gas station two weeks ago in Connecticut."

Moira got up. Everyone else remained frozen.

"They say that he is armed and highly dangerous," the news anchor continued as a picture of Erik flashed on the screen, "Please contact authorities as soon as he is spotted. Do not try to apprehend-"

Moira switched off the T.V. Charles just stared at the screen.

"He doesn't rob places," said Charles, "He…wouldn't just blow a gas station up."

He tried to think through the cotton that his brain had become.

"He didn't do that," he finished lamely.

Biting her lip Moira stood next to him.

"Charles…the government can't just tell people that he's a metal bending mutant," she said softly, "But they need some reason for people to fear him, to tell the government where he's been if they found him."

Words floundered and stuck to the roof of his mouth.

"But they're…he…" he tried.

Her hand rested on his shoulder.

"He chose his path," she said quietly, "And this is what comes of it."

Feeling helpless he took her hand and gripped it tightly. The injustice of it all made him angry, but he could see the logic of it. At the same time it seemed a foul way to treat people who had helped save the world. Erik was many things, he was sure, but he was not a robber. And he wasn't a terrorist. Not yet in any case.

A small thought rose under all his other ones, a thought that he didn't fully appreciate until later when the shock he had received had worn off. His hand was wrapped in hers, pulling her closer. Another one of her hands rested on his shoulder, giving him comfort and support that he desperately needed. He hadn't pulled away, if anything he'd encouraged her to come closer. After the events of the day he was going to be hard pressed to push her away.


	5. Chapter 5

Emma Frost did not understand her new boss. Shaw had been easy enough to understand, to placate. All she had ever had to do was give him a few mind tricks and suddenly he had believed she was irrevocably in love with him. He believed she was in his thrall after that, an idea she hadn't even had to plant herself.

His belief in her utter submission and loyalty had been humiliating in some ways, like getting ice for his drink. She grimaced when she thought of it. It had also gotten her to her position as the White Queen of the Hellfire club though. She had piggybacked his ideas and viciousness, and that had given her a position of influence and power.

Granted the nuclear war idea hadn't been the best. She had actually done a double take when she had first heard it. Emma had, very cautiously, pointed out that such a war could strip the world of vegetation. Mutants were superior to humans, mutants were more powerful, mutants were more intelligent, but mutants still ate the same food as humans. Starvation was **not **something she was willing to go through.

So Shaw had set aside certain islands for the growth of food, arranging for the nuclear warheads not to land there. Emma had sighed in relief. She couldn't believe that that was something that he could overlook. The future King of the World everyone, forgetting about food. Granted, she thought his whole plan was unnecessarily destructive, but if following him meant that she was going to be the **Queen** of the World, then so be it.

Erik, or Magneto as he was calling himself, was different. Unlike Shaw's casual use of the helmet he kept his helmet on almost all the time. He said that it was a precaution against Charles trying to stop any of his plans, but Emma knew it was a protective measure against her as well. She was, in spite of herself, impressed. Shaw had never thought of her in that manner, like she was a threat. She was beneath his radar. Emma was a threat though, much bigger than Magneto.

Because the fact of the matter was that Magneto was stupid. Not stupid in the conventional sense, but stupid just the same. He just had so many resources that could allow him to be doing s better than he was. Mystique was perfect for the infiltration of the government. By herself she could turn the whole country on its head if she wanted too. Unfortunately for her she didn't have quite the guile for it. Magneto did. He could direct her, use her as a pawn, and seize control.

However, Magneto wasn't about ruling the world from the shadows. He and Shaw were exactly the same in that manner. They were of the opinion that the world should consist entirely of mutants, with them at the head of course. Unlike Shaw Magneto might let some live as slaves, but the idea was the same. There would be no puppet governments for them.

Since they were alike for the same reason they were stupid for the same reason. They would not take the middle road. Mutants should rule. Mutants shouldn't have to hide. That was the end of the story when it came to them. Emma agreed with that. Yet, did mutants really have to spend countless years pointlessly killing hoards of people to do so? No. There were easier, faster ways. All of them included compromises that Magneto and Shaw had been unwilling to make. So much for men as the dominant species.

Emma had been content to work with Shaw despite his stupidity because he had given her a powerful position in the Hellfire club. As the White Queen she had been able to do much. Now she had lost that due to her extended absence. Magneto had given her nothing for her collaboration in his plans but motivational words. Oh, he'd freed her from a CIA holding cell, but he'd put her there in the first place.

She didn't think herself as a mercenary person; she had specific aims in mind. Yet, if she had to go around playing second fiddle to another power hungry supremacist and had nothing to show for it she'd go mad. It wasn't as if she could even bring this up with him. Neither he nor Shaw would have understood why she needed more than empty words. Azazel, Angel, Riptide, and Mystique thrived on those words after all.

You couldn't spend words or eat them. No, maybe they could eat them the way they were being shoved down their throats. How could no one see that? How could no one even start to understand that that was not what they needed? They needed action and profits. That was how they were going to stay afloat, not all of this idealistic hogwash. She had put up with it for the past few years, and she would not do it again.

In general Emma owed it to herself to return to Washington and reclaim her position as White Queen. She had stayed with Magneto long enough to know how he worked, how he might respond to certain situations. That was all that she needed, and at the first possible opportunity she would leave.

Finding that opportunity was easier said than done though. She had seen enough of Magneto's power to realize that her leaving wouldn't be taken well. Those who made another choice he could let go. Traitors would most likely be killed. No, he respected mutants too much. Maybe he'd put her in another holding cell, turn her into the government or something. She shuddered when she thought about that disgusting CIA holding cell.

So she needed a distraction, something big enough to make him forget about her entirely. Emma saw that in Charles Xavier. Magneto's former friend and partner, he had sworn that he would stop him at every opportunity. She had heard about it from the rather impressionable Mystique. From what Emma had seen she'd been a stupid girl to abandon her 'brother' like that and an even stupider one to talk about it to Emma. She wasn't a therapist, but she'd gladly play the role of one if it got her information.

Mystique had been too eager to tell someone her troubles. Magneto wouldn't be sympathetic or just give her more propaganda, she still didn't like Angel, and the rest were boys. Her logic made Emma the perfect confidante. It ended up working to Emma's advantage. Everything did.

She recognized that within a few hours of her arrival. Emma wasn't ideal for Mystique, but she could play a housewife when need be. At first she had thought her biggest obstacle would be that Mystique didn't want her power usurped or that she'd been her enemy. She was, surprisingly enough, wrong.

Apparently Magneto had convinced her to give Emma another chance prior to her arrival, and Mystique didn't think she was powerful enough to assume the position of Magneto's second. Emma had to laugh at that. It didn't matter if she was powerful or not. Mystique had enough time to become powerful after she assumed her position.

So no, that wasn't her big obstacle. Her only real obstacle was, in the end, one that was simple to rectify. As soon as Mystique found that Emma had no romantic interest in Magneto, why she would want to she didn't understand, she'd tried to make friends with her. Emma had complied, inwardly shaking her head in disgust. .

She had also come up with a sob story about her past and how cruel humans had been to her before she ran into Shaw. Mystique trusted it completely. In reality Emma had been a socialite living in luxury until she realized the game was bigger than her city. Only after she figured** that **out did she meet Shaw.

However, Mystique still felt guilty about going on a 'kill all humans spree' with Magneto. She wanted some sort of justification. Normally Emma wouldn't have bothered to give it to her. If she had been with any of the others she would have just brushed them off or told the truth. Mystique was different. Emma had recognized that having Magneto's second and Charles' little sister confide in her would be an asset. So she had played along.

So now she knew much about both Charles and Magneto. She knew about their friendship, how they met, even some of Charles' genetic theories. From Mystique's pity party she even knew about Charles' little human sweetheart, Moira. A CIA agent? Well, well. She didn't think that the long-haired Cambridge student had it in him to get with a woman whose superiors would happily see him locked up. You learned something new every day.

She could also hear the jealousy in Mystique's voice when she talked about her. Oh yes, she was jealous of pretty Moira who got on so well with others. The fact that her brother had lavished attention on Moira had made her jealousy even more pronounced.

Moira could be used. Mystique hated her and she didn't think Magneto needed an incentive to go after a human. It coincided perfectly with their objectives too. Magneto's latest pet project had been to infiltrate the CIA. He believed that they needed to protect their identities and location from those that would harm them. Disgustingly he believed that this included Charles' little nursery school.

No matter. What was information gathering? Surveillance. And what had Moira been in when she found Charles? Surveillance. Not to mention she was a 'security risk' since she already knew all of them. They could take down a potential threat to them and find information that would make Mystique's infiltrations believable. She could, realistically, give them the edge that they needed.

On the plus side for her Moira was Charles' lover. Or was she? Emma didn't really know. Mystique was always vague on that point. It made sense he would have a homo sapien love though. He was sentimental, a peace-loving idealist with wonderful oratory skills and telepathic capabilities. If something happened to her he would of course want her back, and unharmed. If he found out that Magneto was behind her disappearance, well, wouldn't he worry?

So the plan was simple. Find Moira. Have Magneto take Moira. Have her be gone for a suspicious amount of time. She could orchestrate things so Charles would find out who took her. Then Charles would be desperate to find her, launch a rescue mission with his fellow mutants. Magneto would strike back. There would be a little war.

It would be the perfect distraction while she escaped. An old friend of hers would be needed for that, but she could pull it off. Let them have their endless antagonism, what did she care? Magneto would never try to destroy the world like Shaw did, but if he ever did then Charles would be there to stop him. It was a teeter-totter that she could stay in the middle of, the constant in a shaking world.

All it would take to bring Mystique on her side was honeyed words. They would approach Magneto together. He would hesitate, she knew that. There was some loyalty left to Charles, some friendship. Emma would back off but Mystique would lobby furiously. Then it would seem more Mystique's idea then hers. In the end it would go her way. It always did.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time the first students arrived, Charles hadn't made his decision. There was still plenty of time to go, but he knew that the more time Moira spent there the more difficult it would be to send her away. The boys were under the mistaken impression that she was already there to stay. He didn't want to contradict them, but he knew it would only make them angrier if he did end up sending her away.

It was also difficult for him to imagine letting her go. He was starting to become acutely aware of her whenever she walked into a room or whenever she spoke. Charles knew he couldn't let his personal feelings interfere in what he knew was right, but it was difficult. No, it was more than difficult. It was outright driving him insane.

He could only hope she hadn't noticed the effect she had on him, how she made him feel. Without reading her mind it was impossible to know for sure. All of the things he had worried about if he took time to make such a decision came true. Every day he questioned his decision to send her away in the first place, like he knew he would. Sometimes he even ran across his original three students and picked up their thoughts by accident. He still didn't have complete control after all. He would hear them think, in no uncertain terms;

_So glad that the Professor worked that out and brought her back. _

With Sean, who was now in a tentative relationship with his hardware store crush, it was based mostly on a relieved gratitude. Others had slightly more sinister ideas about her reappearance. Once they had been setting up a classroom. Moira was lending a helping hand, commenting on how Charles had really brought things together. He had smiled only to then hear Alex, in a smug tone, think;

_Oh yeah, there's something there. Wonder when they're going to get together. I'm sure he's planning something. He __**did **__bring her back. Definitely got the hots for her. _

Charles had wanted to go and run Alex's toes over with his chair. Thoughts like those were few and far between, but sometimes he heard them from Hank too. Hank seemed to think that there was some sort of understanding between the two of them. Despite the fact that they weren't a couple he too was under the impression that they would be so soon.

He had to wonder about that. In the past Charles had never been shy when it came to interacting with members of the fairer sex. Even when he was drunk he rarely had problems picking up girls. So what was it about her that made nervous? He had, of course erased her memories and held the possibility of making it happen again. That was definitely a damper. Yet, he had the feeling it was something else.

Maybe it was because, to put things quite frankly, she wasn't like any woman he'd come across before. When she first appeared Charles had wondered what Moira's motivation had been in coming back if she left the option open to being sent away. He'd realized, rather painfully, that it had been that she just wanted more time there.

To top things off she had decided to occupy her time helping with the school. Whenever someone needed something she was there, helping students move in and giving directions. She even ran errands for the teachers since she said she had nothing better to do. Her work in the CIA had helped her draw up organizational tables for lunchtimes for his students of various ages, as well as times where certain people could have control of the T.V. She was even a good arbitrator in difficult times, again probably due to the CIA training.

Yet it was her own personality was what allowed her to become fast friends with the faculty and several students. Perhaps she was trying to convince him that she could stay there, could be useful. It was more than that though. Whatever she was doing around the mansion, she was actually enjoying it. Whether she knew it or not her enthusiasm and sheer happiness at what she was doing made her look like she belonged, like it would be unquestionable for her not to be there. Charles could see that Moira was weaving herself into their life, little by little.

This was hammered home during the first week of school. It was Friday and Charles was just starting to congratulate himself on a good first week. He had been leaving the library at the time, this taking a while since he had to maneuver his wheelchair out the door. Another nuisance that he had to deal with. Many doors in the mansion bore scrape marks from where he had had to force the chair through.

As with many things he had become too confident too quickly. Something always shattered the illusion. This time it was a boy running through the halls with tears in his eyes. He registered it as him as Doug Ramsey, a child who with the ability to understand and replicate all languages had become a fast learner. He had nearly made it to the end of the hall when Moira stepped out from behind a door and stopped him. Doug rubbed away his tears and tried to look like he hadn't been upset. Charles wondered if he should venture out when he heard Moira ask;

"You're…Doug, right? I was in your teacher's class Tuesday. Remember me?"

"Yes Ms. MacTaggart," Doug mumbled.

"Good. Now what's wrong?"

Doug said nothing, just looked away.

"I won't tell anyone," she assured him.

He kept looking away.

"You don't want anyone to hear, huh?" asked Moira, "Well don't worry. Your teacher said you were really good with languages. Quite the cypher. You want to talk in one of those?"

Doug hesitated before nodding.

"Now, which one do you want?"

"Mandarin," Doug said.

Part of him wanted to see what the matter was, but Moira seemed to have the situation in hand. He didn't want to interrupt, but he still wanted to know. He moved himself to where he could hear but not see and put his fingers to his temple and gently touched Doug's mind. Charles wasn't the type to be intrusive, but he did need to know if his students were having problems.

"_Alright. I'm not so good in this one, but I'll give it a go_," Moira said in Mandarin, kneeling down so she was level with Doug, "_Now, what happened?_"

"…_Mr. Thompson was smoking,_" answered Doug.

"_Is that all?_"

He could see Doug nod.

"_Doug…_"

"_My…my uncle smokes._"

"_Are you homesick?_" she asked, sounding puzzled.

Doug shook his head furiously.

"_I like it here but…I…you wouldn't understand_."

Charles started to get a very bad idea about the direction the conversation was heading.

"_I can try_."

There was a pause, like Doug was trying to make a decision. Finally he extended one of his hands and flexed his fingers. Moira took a deep intake of breath.

"_He called me a freak_."

He saw Moira take Doug's hand in hers and turn it over.

"_Did you ever tell your parents_?"

"_...no. Didn't want to cause trouble._"

"_He put out a cigarette in your hand! That's something parents like to know about._"

Charles put his hand over his mouth. He had expected that some of his students would come from backgrounds that were less than supportive. He had expected that of the children with mutations that were obvious though, or mutations that could do big things. He had never expected that a mutation like Doug's would draw such negative attention.

"_I just…I told you you wouldn't understand._"

To his surprise he saw Moira roll up her sleeve. She let it reach her elbow before she turned her arm so the underside faced up. Doug took a step back in surprise.

"_You too?_" he asked.

For the first time in several months Charles mind went absolutely blank. It was all he could do not to proclaim his presence and ask.

"_Me too_," she agreed, "_I had a boyfriend once…well, I won't go into detail but we got into a fight. I left him immediately after, but I never told anyone about it. I didn't want to cause trouble either. But I got past it._"

She placed her hands on his shoulders.

"_I want you to know that Mr. Thompson will never call you a freak, never hurt you. Nor will anyone at the school. You're safe here, you do know that right?_"

Doug nodded. He hugged her around the waist suddenly before dashing down the next hallway. Moira looked after him with a sad smile. She rolled down her sleeve again and started walking down the hallway. Charles mind came back and he tried to maneuver himself back into the library, but she reached the door too soon.

She stopped and stared at him.

"How long were you listening?" she asked.

He knew it would be better to lie, but there was something about her eyes which told him he had better not try it.

"Since the beginning," he admitted.

Moira nodded.

"Makes sense. You wanted to make sure your student was okay."

Her eyes drifted down towards her arm. Charles sighed.

"How long ago?" he asked.

"Two years," Moira said, "I should have left him earlier. I really should have."

Briefly he saw red. Trying to calm himself down he gripped the armrests of his wheelchair.

"I'm sorry Moira."

"Listening in on that isn't something you should be sorry for. I **understand **Charles."

Her emphasis was confusing but he didn't want to think of it at the moment.

"I meant about…whoever the hell he was," Charles said, "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

Moira blinked. She bit her lip before kissing him on the forehead. Her lips stayed there for a very short time, only a few seconds. Almost immediately afterwards she nodded and continued her progress. Charles was left glued to the spot, still feeling the tingling of her lips on his forehead. 

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **Moira did actually have an abusive husband in the comics. However, judging from the fact that she wasn't married in the movie and her name was already MacTaggart I figured, if they ever mentioned it it would be as a former boyfriend. And just in case any you wondering, Doug isn't an OC. I'm trying not to use OC's since, in the case of this particular fic, there's so many characters in the X-Men series to chose from as students and background characters. Doug's also known as Cypher, from the second or third wave of X-Men. He had the ability to understand all languages, later including technology and body language so he could read moves in battle. He also ended up making friends with an alien named Warlock since he could understand him. I chose him for this particular role since there's a high ranking official in the Friends of Humanity (Anti-mutant group) named Philip Ramsey. Just thought they might be related, which must make for some awkward times at the dinner table. _


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: **I was surprised at how much support I got for this pairing since I didn't see many Charles/Moira fics. Thanks everyone! And here's the chapter you've probably all been waiting for._

* * *

><p>A dance was first mentioned a month after the term started. The idea for it came from Hank, the unofficial class president. Most of the 'old' students had assumed leadership roles. Hank was at the forefront and had been approached by some of the students. Some of them had been in real high schools before coming there and had been hoping that they could organize a fall dance. Others were in a band, or could manipulate sound waves, and had been eager for an audience.<p>

Charles had complied and many of the teens were drafted into the dance's organization. For the younger kids it was suggested they do something that was more low-key and ended earlier, but the faculty just didn't exist to make it happen. So the idea for doing something for the younger children was postponed.

Many of the kids had been disappointed that they were excluded, even though many of them didn't like or had never attended dances. Doug had been one of those disappointed that he wasn't allowed to go with the big kids. He had tried to bring his complaint to her, saying she was his favorite teacher and that she would at least try to do something. Moira did but unfortunately she wasn't a miracle worker. Doug had taken it surprisingly well and not mentioned it again.

She hadn't had it in her to tell him that she wasn't a teacher. No, she hadn't even told him it was possible she could be leaving soon, never to return. Every time he told her about what he was hoping he could do at the school for Christmas she had stop a wince. Moira didn't know if she would be there for that.

By the time the school dance came it was little over a month since she'd returned. There had been no word on whether or not she was going to stay. Moira felt confident, but she didn't want to get her hopes up. If she did that now leaving would completely crush her. She thought it would do that anyway though since the school was fast becoming her life. Moira didn't have a position, but more and more she felt like she belonged.

When she thought over her situation she knew that the best idea would be to go and confront Charles. She would demand an answer from him and then the wait would be over. Still, she couldn't do that. Moira hadn't set a precise date for him to decide. Demanding an answer would only upset him. That was the last thing she wanted to do.

Which was another thing that she was worrying about. She knew how she felt about Charles. How did he feel about her? He'd seemed strange to her from the moment she arrived. There were days that she felt like she'd never left, and then there were times like she felt that she wasn't there at all. She had no idea how to read the looks he was giving her. They were too deep or too shallow, confusing her. A sense of consistency would have done wonders.

Ultimately she concluded that she should help chaperone the dance. As a show of solidarity Charles had been the first to sign up as a chaperone, and she came as the other. Although she used the fact that the other teachers would be busy getting kids to bed or have the night off, she didn't bother to lie to herself. She knew she was doing it to be with the school's psychic headmaster.

So on the night of the dance she'd gotten into one of her nicer gowns. It was simple and pretty, square-necked and a deep red. Yet, she was worried about its sleeveless nature. When no one knew about her cigarette burns no one noticed them. That had changed after her talk with Doug. Even though they were barely visible they were making her self-conscious. She just had to pretend it didn't matter.

The dance was already underway by the time she got there. She wouldn't call what the band was playing music exactly, but the students were certainly enjoying it. Moira had to look around to find Charles, who was sitting in the corner with a vague smile on his face. She made her way over to him, trying to avoid all the outstretched appendages.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asked.

"Very much actually," Charles answered, "This place was once a mansion, and now it's a school. The dance just seems to make it official."

She nodded, recognizing the truth of the statement.

"You have to be careful," she said, "They'll want to set up sports teams next."

"I don't think so. Who would we play?" asked Charles sadly.

Moira winced. There weren't any other schools in the area and, to allow equal opportunities on the teams, he wouldn't be able to exclude people with obvious mutations like Hank. You couldn't talk about how everyone was equal and then exclude some. They would have to let them on the team, and then they would have to let them compete. There was no way that they could hide from the government if they did that.

"You could compete against yourself," Moira suggested, "At the rate the school is growing you could have enough to have your own championships soon."

He laughed.

"Yes," he said, "I suppose that should work."

"And a band too if you're not careful."

They winced as one of the students playing hit a particularly high note badly. When it was over Charles smiled at her. She wanted to say something else to make him smile again but she saw a small figure weaving in and out of the older students.

"One second," she said.

Wriggling through she managed to get into the middle of the throng of dancers. From the corner of her eye she saw Hank and Alex talking to a few girls their age. It was nice to see Hank coming out of his shell. She would have to congratulate him on it later. Right now she had another problem to handle.

She found Doug sitting on a table, swinging his legs. He had been put to bed since he had his pajamas on. The only thing she couldn't understand was how he'd managed to sneak he saw her coming he jumped off and started running. Moira had to chase him halfway around the ballroom. She could have caught him if she wasn't wearing high heels. She was though and he sent her on a long chase.

He was artful, weaving through the different dancers and ducking under places that were hard for her to reach. Moira thought things might end when he went past Charles, but Doug quickly realized that he was in on the chase too. He tried to change direction and one of his feet slid. It crashed into the wheel of the chair and knocked it over.

Charles was sent crashing to the ground. Moira swore in surprise and hurried over. To his credit Doug stopped to see if Charles was okay, though he looked confused. She knelt down next to him and tried to right him. Hank noticed what had happened and hurried over. He managed to give her the extra strength needed to right him.

"I'm sorry. You okay Professor?" asked Doug, looking ashamed.

"Fine," Charles replied curtly, "You should be in bed."

"I didn't mean-" Doug started.

"Go to bed Doug," snapped Charles.

Doug took a step back and stood behind her skirt. Moira stared, unsure of how to deal with the developing situation. Luckily Hank stepped in to fill the awkward silence.

"I'll take him back to the dormitory," he offered.

"No, you get back to the dance," said Moira, "I'm a chaperone. I've got him."

She took Doug's hand and led him out of the ballroom. He was much calmer now.

"Is the Professor mad at me?" he asked.

"No, but you did knock him down," Moira replied, "You shouldn't have done that."

"It was an accident."

"Accident or not, you shouldn't have been there in the first place," she said, "I don't think you'll be in any trouble. But there'll be plenty of time to go to dances when you're older."

Looking glum Doug went to bed without protest. Feeling tired she headed back to the ballroom, making a beeline to where she had stood with Charles. She was disheartened, but unsurprised, when she found that he was no longer there. Moira looked around, but it soon became apparent that he wasn't in the room.

However, one of the patio doors was open. She couldn't leave the ballroom to find him, but at the samr time she couldn't just leave him. Pushing through the throngs she found Hank. She told him she had to leave for a while and asked him to maintain some order. Then she hurried out the doors to the patio.

"Hey," she said, walking up behind him, "you left in a hurry."

Charles snorted.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" he snapped, turning his chair to face her

"Well, yes, but it's okay," she said, "It's not a big deal-"

"It is. I couldn't help you. I was pushed to the floor by a **child**," Charles interrupted, frustrated, "I can't do much of anything, and really, all I'm going to do is hold everyone down. The only thing I can do is keep everyone safe and I can't even do that since you came back."

Although it hurt she knew he was just frustrated. She shook her head.

"I only came back because I really wanted to," she said, "And I had to work at it. Charles, you're looking at this all wrong."

"Am I?" he asked, "Because I can't repress your memories again. I know it would be the safest thing, but I can't because I'm too…**selfish** to do it. Doesn't that show how weak I am?"

Something light and fluttery manifested in her stomach.

"Is…is that your answer? You're…you're not going to take these new memories away?"

He nodded, still looking away and his eyes hard. Moira took a tentative step towards him and placed both of her hands around his face. She turned it so that it was facing her. The frustrated look melted from his face and was replaced with one of anticipation and terror. Moira knew that she was making one of the biggest decisions of her life. She shook her head slowly, taking deep breaths.

"It doesn't show that you're weak," said Moira, "It just continues to prove how good you are, that you can admit to making mistakes and…it proves that you…"

She leaned down so her face was inches from his.

"…you Charles Xavier, are the best man I've ever met."

Charles' arms snaked up hers. His grasp was soft and she waited, not sure what was going to happen next. Then he pulled her closer so that their lips crashed together. She gasped, giving him an opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth. His hands moved behind her head, threading through her hair and pulling her closer.

Memories came back, like there had been a veil over them that had been removed. She gasped at their return. Moira stumbled and practically fell into his lap. His hands were on her back and neck in an instant, caressing her skin and holding on like she was a lifeline. Once she had gotten over her surprise she twined her arms around his neck and kissed him back. When they finally pulled away her face was flushed, as was his. They stayed close though, his breath warm on her face.

"They were always there…just hidden…" he panted, "I never did before because I wasn't completely sure…thought it would hurt more but..."

She kissed him lightly on the lips to silence him, much more chaste this time.

"Thank you," Moira said, kissing him again, "Thank you so much."


	8. Chapter 8

"Prejudices, it is well known, are most difficult to eradicate from the heart whose soil has never been loosened or fertilized by education: they grow there, firm as weeds among stones."

"Do you just read memorize these things to quote at people?" asked Moira, "Because I think that line is suspiciously quotable."

Charles put _Jane Eyre _down. He turned and looked at Moira, who was lying next to him. The couch in the library was wide enough for both of them and Charles preferred to lie down and read. He had always had, but ever since he had been confined to a chair for most of the day it was a nice release. It was one of the first things he learned to do by himself. The operation was difficult, but he was proud he didn't need assistance. Moving himself from his wheelchair to his bed or couch had helped him reclaim some independence. It wasn't much, but it was a good start.

Ever since the kiss on the patio steps had had to be taken. With his decision to allow her to stay they had had to find some sort of permanent position for her in the school. She'd told him her joking ideas about being appointed housekeeper, but since she was helping out in the classes he thought something a little more official sounding would be better. Besides, she was much more to both the boys and himself than a housekeeper.

Despite this they hadn't come up with a name for what she was doing yet, although her name had been added onto the list of staff. Hank had noticed the new name almost immediately and approached her about it. She'd explained it to him and her lack of a position.

More had been said; she'd probably shared the joke with him now. That was what must have happened as there was now an ongoing joke about her being the school's housekeeper between his first three students. Charles had no doubt that it would catch on with the other students. They were already considered some sort of dream team.

Moira didn't seem to mind. She had quit her consultant job citing personal reasons two days after the patio. Yes, Charles liked to think of himself and the school as personal reasons. More specifically he was glad that** he** was a personal reason. He was glad she was going to be staying, but since the school was still in its infancy he was routinely frustrated by the lack of time they could spend together.

They had taken to snatching moments with each other during their hectic days. He hadn't expected her to come into the library, but her presence at his side was soothing. For once everything seemed perfect; the children were out exploring the grounds with the teachers and Hank, Sean was in the town with Maeve, Alex was reading letters from home in his room and Moira was, of course, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I'll have you know that it is very important to read the classics, sweetheart," he said, tapping her forehead with the book, "Not just those modern things."

"Are you suggesting that what I read isn't any good?" Moira said, propping herself up by her elbow.

"…perhaps. I doubt you've read _Jane Eyre_ though."

"Some mind reader you are. I actually have read it. Had to read it in the ninth grade," she said, "Hated it."

"First off I'd like to point out that I agreed to only read your mind if there's an emergency," he pointed out, "So that's really not fair. And the only reason you don't like it is because it was taught wrong. It's a wonderful story about overcoming insurmountable odds, being true to yourself and your conscience, and not dying of some horrible Victorian disease."

"I'll agree with the last bit," she said, shaking her head, "But Charles, it's not a great story. It really isn't."

"You only think that. It's a story that people hate because it was taught to them in the ninth grade, and taught all wrong," Charles admonished her, "It's like _Wuthering Heights_ and just about anything written by Jane Austen or Charles Dickens."

"Do you make a habit of reading historical romance literature?" she asked.

"Charles Dickens did** not** write romances."

"No, but he wrote sob stories," Moira said, turning her head, "I don't understand how you don't get chronically depressed all the time, reading these things."

He gave a wry smile. If only she knew.

"All the same though, all those historical romances," she said, "I'm sure it makes for better pick up line material then what mutation causes auburn hair."

They both laughed. Moira snuggled closer into his shoulder. Charles used the hand on the arm that was wrapped around her shoulders to lightly stroke her auburn hair. The MC1R chromosome was what caused it, but he was sure that wasn't what made it so soft and pleasurable to run his fingers through. Still, he found himself liking that chromosome. Intensely.

"Could you honestly imagine me going up to some random girl and saying-" he stopped and flipped through the book, "here we go; if all the world hated you, and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved you, and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends?"

She shrugged.

"I'm sure you'd find some way to work it into the conversation," she said.

"You confidence in me is staggering."

"I'm glad you find it so," Moira said, "And I know who to go to if I ever need to look up books that housewives swooned over in the mid-nineteenth century."

"You're really not going to let this one go, are you?"

"Never," she assured him.

He shifted himself so that his torso was parallel to hers, propping himself up with his arms. His legs got left behind, still lying straight like he was on his back. If Charles had been able to feel anything from his legs then he might have noticed what an uncomfortable position he was in. As it was he decided to ignore even how they looked for the time being.

"No using this as blackmail now sweetheart."

"We'll have to see about tha-"

Charles lowered his head so that his lips came in contact with hers, cutting her off in mid-sentence. One of her hands went behind his neck, pushing him closer and combing through his hair. Thank goodness he still had **that**. Her other hand went down his back, fisting in the cloth of his shirt. Even through the fabric he could still feel the heat from her skin. He's glad that he had taken his sports coat off earlier.

He broke off their kiss and started laying gentler ones down her jaw and onto her neck. She moaned a little and tightened the fingers in his hair and shirt. Then the hand on the back of his head pushed him so that he was on her lips again. Charles smiled before resuming their original kiss, one of his own hands moving to the side of her face.

"Hey, Professor, I just got this letter from my parents and- **my eyes**!"

Groaning at being interrupted Charles turned so that he faced the doorway. Alex had come in, an opened letter in his hand that wasn't occupied with covering his eyes. The question he had been trying to ask had apparently long since died on his lips. He had started backing away as though he had found himself in a room on fire.

"Geez, get a room you guys!"

"We had one, until you opened the door," Charles replied.

"Yeah, but people go into this room!"

"Not this afternoon. Would you have preferred us to put up a sign?" asked Charles, trying to keep the frustration at being interrupted out of his voice.

Apparently he wasn't good enough from the defensive way Alex raised his hands.

"Charles-" started Moira, rolling her eyes.

"I know, I know, my fault. But it's like walking in on your parents," Alex said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand, "I come in here, all ready to talk about important stuff and then I have to see-"

"Yes, and now that you've gone through all that trouble, what did you want to ask me?" asked Charles.

"It's about my little brother Scott he…never mind. I need to go scrub my eyes out with a wire brush and baking soda," said Alex, "I'll talk about this later."

He started to shut the door, muttering;

"**Next** time I'll **knock** first."

Moira and Charles took one look at each other before bursting out into laughter.

* * *

><p>Emma hadn't expected to find Moira at Xavier's school. All she had come there for was some sort of lead. She had checked Moira's old home and any properties in her name. She had even briefly wandered up to the town where Moira's parents lived. These trails had turned cold and had nearly caused her to rip out her blonde hair in frustration.<p>

However, she had been loath to abandon her plan. It was so perfect. Besides, she wanted to appear a model member of the Brotherhood. That meant not disappointing Magneto on her first mission. She had to act as though those words were enough for her, like she was only determined to prove herself in her new organization. In other words, both for her cover and her own good she couldn't fail.

So she had gone up to the school without Magneto's permission. Apparently the school was a no-zone, at least for now. If she found anything out, which she thought she might, then she would say she found it out in a different way. Charles would still be in contact with her, but the other telepath would definitely know if she started rooting around in his mind from a distance. All Emma could hope for was that one of the other students knew where she had gone.

Emma been surprised when, on a preliminary scan of the minds in the area, she briefly felt Moira. Irritably she clucked her tongue. Mystique had expressed her opinion that her brother was some sort of genius. To Emma it was common sense that you wouldn't let some homo sapien into a school for mutants if they were your paramour or not. Men truly didn't do their thinking with their heads.

Smiling she replaced her white-rimmed sunglasses on her eyes. Then she turned around and walked away from the fence of the estate. No matter; she had found her. And now that she had found the ever elusive CIA agent she could give Magneto positive results. Then they could move in. It was going to happen, one way or another.


	9. Chapter 9

Mystique entered the large room downstairs that they had designated as the training room. After all the time they had spent in the underground bunker it seemed too large. By contrast he abandoned military base that they had commandeered was too small. Compared to the mansion everything was too small.

Stretching her arms into the air she did her preliminary stretches before starting with yoga. That would then lead into intense session of practicing kicks and forms. Her stretching routine had always relaxed her when she was training under her brother. Now that she was training herself to be a well-honed weapon it was more important than ever to be relaxed.

As soon as Emma found Moira they would get the necessary information from her. She would study it for a week or two. Then she would go deep, right into the heart of the CIA. They would learn about their enemies and take them down one by one. Mystique would probably end up taking down many of them herself.

Touching the ground she tried to clear her mind. She had always seen herself as a reasonable person. She had known that she was never as smart as Charles. She had never minded. College had never figured prominently in her plans for the future. Yet, she had always believed that family should stick together. So she had decided to follow him to England, to Cambridge. She had taken up a job waitressing so she would be close to her brother.

Charles never seemed to reciprocate that sense of duty. He loved her plenty but took it granted she'd followed him. It had made her sad, and then angry. Would he ever go where she did? Mystique very much doubted it. She still loved her brother. He was still the most compassionate, intelligent, observant, and kindest person she had ever met. She was just overawed by the ignorance that he could display sometimes.

It was only when Erik had held out his hand that she had seen an opportunity at a different life. She didn't have to be with her brother for forever. She didn't have to be Raven anymore. She could be Mystique, the person she had always wanted to be. In that moment she had wanted nothing more than to take his hand and go with him, the one who saw her as beautiful for who she really was.

At the same time she had seen Charles, the boy who had taken her in. He had been being cradled by Moira after being shot. He was in obvious pain. Mystique had swallowed a bitter taste in her mouth and walked to his side. She knew that there was a grave difference between what she wanted to do and what she should do.

Then he had told her to go with Erik. It made her want to cry, his complete self-sacrifice and unselfish nature. She knew that the humans he worked for wouldn't appreciate him. They would use him and then cast him aside if it suited them. Even the human who had been there, had panicked over his condition, would turn on him one day. Already her bosses had condemned him to death. Only Erik had postponed his warrant.

So she went, not only for herself, but for him. The Brotherhood of Mutants would strike before they could be attacked. Even though he would not abandon his moralistic ideals they would. They would do what he could not. Together they would save him. Then he would know that they had been right. He would thank them then.

"You **will **thank me big brother," Mystique said out loud, "You will thank me. You'll understand. You will."

She let out a powerful strike at a punching bag. She had never really seen herself as the kind of person to join an extremist cell. It was just one of those funny little quirks of life. It wasn't as though they had done anything though. Not yet at least. Erik was concentrating on recruitment and training before he started to let their objectives be put into play.

That was fine with her. Mystique was just starting to get the hang of her powers. That was why her upcoming assignment to infiltrate the CIA was both terrifying and exhilarating. She was finally given a chance to get the recognition that she deserved. It would be one step towards proving that she should be there, that everything would be fine once they had taken control.

From above the door to the room opened. Mystique snapped her head up only to see Emma Frost enter.

"You're back!" exclaimed Mystique.

Emma smiled and gave Mystique a one-armed hug. Mystique hugged back and they parted.

"I know, it only took three months," said Emma, rolling her eyes, "Most people are much easier to find, let me tell you."

Turning away Emma sat on a nearby work bench. She crossed her legs neatly. That was Emma; all grace and poise.

"Please, don't let me interrupt," she said.

Mystique resumed her stretches.

"I take it you did find her though," Mystique said.

"Only after exhausting **every other possible lead**," sighed Emma, "You have no idea how difficult it was. I'm not used to doing this sort of thing; finding people. It used to be just point and pull the trigger."

She tried to swallow the rising disgust she felt at the fact that Emma could talk about killing so matter-of-factly. However, she would have to become that way soon. Otherwise she could never do her job correctly. Besides, they were all human lives. She wasn't supposed to care about them. And Emma hadn't even been there when Shaw killed Darwin.

"Did you tell Erik yet?" she asked.

"No, our fearless leader is out," said Emma, giving a mock salute, "So I figured I should come down here and talk to you first. I mean, the others wouldn't really care. You and Erik are the ones who know her."

"Know her?" laughed Mystique, "Don't be ridiculous. She was doing things that were much too important to concern Charles' **sister**. Moira was reluctant to even let me into the CIA headquarters. Charles had to convince her that I was his personal assistant as well as sister in order to get her to let me come with him."

"It was the head of the CIA," Emma said, "They can't be too careful with that sort of thing."

She paused.

"Well, didn't Angel work with her too?"

"That girl?" Mystique rolled her eyes, "She let them kill Darwin right in front of her without saying anything at all. I understand what Shaw was trying to do. But at the same time she shouldn't have joined him after she saw what he had just done. She had been laughing and talking with him only seconds before."

"Not to mention she has no sense of fashion," Emma said.

"Okay Emma, okay," laughed Mystique, reaching upwards towards the ceiling, "So where did you end up finding her anyway? Still working for those bloodsuckers down at the CIA?"

"I think so," said Emma, "I can't tell for certain. She wasn't where she used to live. But…"

Her voice trailed off.

"What?" asked Mystique.

"I don't think that there's any way to say this," sighed Emma, "At least no way to say this that would soften the blow."

Mystique stopped in mid-stretch.

"What do you mean?"

For a moment more Emma hesitated. Then she sighed and hung her head.

"Your brother started up his school. She's been there for a few months doing…stuff. I felt her mind there."

Her blood ran cold.

"I can't believe after everything he…he knows the CIA can't be trusted! Charles knows better than to trust the woman whose bosses nearly killed-" Mystique started, her hand curling into a fist.

The pity in Emma's face was enough to make her stop.

"Never mind, I should have known," Mystique said, trying to unclench her fist but failing, "He's too trusting.Of course he'd let her back in. He'd let everyone back in. I thought he was smarter than this, but his good nature just **has **to take over."

Next to her Emma shrank away. Some part of her registered that she was being taken seriously and beamed in satisfaction. The other part couldn't care less.

"Just…the mess he can make of things!" Mystique exploded, "It's like a train wreck, you just can't look away!"

One of her hands went in front of her mouth. She tried to repress tears. Crying wouldn't be looked at gently in the Brotherhood unless it was for a good reason. This might have been a good reason, but part of her was too angry at Moira to cry. How could she do this to him? There was only one way that this could be worse.

"Do you…?"

She turned her head so that she could look at Emma again.

"Yes?" asked Emma, her voice still laced with sympathy.

"Do you…do you know if the two of them are together?" asked Mystique.

Emma said nothing, just looked down at the floor. That was as good as an answer. Mystique gritted her teeth.

"Alright, alright. We're getting her out of there. We're removing her from the scene," said Mystique, turning back to Emma, "Can you make her forget something once we get the information we need?"

"Forget what?" asked Emma.

"Everything."

Emma thought in silence for a minute.

"Yes."

"Perfect," Mystique said.

Charles would thank her one day for this. She was sure he would.


	10. Chapter 10

The glass smashed, as well as the three ones surrounding it. Charles took off his ear muffs and wheeled himself until he was right next to Sean.

"We still need to work on directing it," he said, "I know that's hard because sound fills up a space, but it can be directed."

"Yes Professor," sighed Sean.

"It's just a muscle Sean. Like any other," Charles continued, "You have been doing those exercises I outlined for you, haven't you?"

"Yes Professor," Sean said.

"I can read your mind, so lying to me won't get you anywhere. Tell the truth."

"Um…I haven't."

Charles shook his head. From the back of the aptly christened 'Danger Room' Alex and Hank watched their comrade practice during their special 'extracurricular' sessions. Their turn would come soon, as well as a team session where they fought each other. It was the best way to learn each other's weaknesses. Hank was even coming up with a type of virtual-reality simulation where they could make up opponents.

Alex was starting to train outside more though, as was Hank. Charles had been relieved to find that Hank was running trails, but Alex had something more ambitious in mind. His letter from home had informed him that his little brother Scott had exhibited the same 'energy abnormalities' as he had, only from his eyes.

Despite his anger at having his ability called an abnormality Alex had asked Charles if his brother could attend next year. Then he would be old enough to go to school. Charles had accepted and Alex had written home. Hank had even designed a special pair of sunglasses that should block the energy signature to be sent with him.

After that Alex had started to put a training program together for his brother based on what had been used on him. So far he had managed to get a ski shooting set together for when Scott's abilities progressed. Charles admired his enthusiasm but winced at the thought of two Summers brothers together under one roof.

"And I know why you didn't do them too," Charles said, "Had a nice night with Maeve?"

Sean nodded eagerly.

"Yeah, it was great. There's this movie that came out recently, right? It had a lot of explosions in it and I didn't think she'd like it, but she was the one who asked to go to it. And…"

His voice trailed off. Alex started snickering in the back.

"…that's not what you meant."

"Correct, especially since I know you were out after curfew," said Charles, "I suppose you should look up irony in the dictionary one day."

"It's right next to lovesick!" Alex called out.

Next to him Sean turned red.

"Now enough of that," Charles said, "I understand that your girlfriend is very important to you. But please remember that learning to control this is important too."

"Work comes first?" asked Sean glumly.

"Well, not always," Charles said.

His mind wandered shamefully to the date he'd had with Moira two days prior. The expense reports he was supposed to do then were still sitting on his desk.

"He's knows what he's talking about," Alex said to Hank, "I caught him necking with our housekeeper in the library the other day."

It was meant to be a whisper, he credited Alex with that. However, the acoustics of the Danger Room carried Alex's words to where Charles and Sean were standing. Sean cocked his head at Charles while the latter rested his head in his hands. It didn't help when Hank said, seconds later;

"I think that kind of figures. I wondered what he did while we were away."

"Well now you know," Alex answered, "It was disgusting, like he was trying to eat her face-"

"That's quite enough of that," Charles said loudly.

The two boys turned guiltily. He shook his head. Charles tried to wheel his chair down the hall in a manner that made him look authorative. It was difficult to do so when you had to keep using your arms. He could have had Sean push him, he was coming right behind him, but he felt that would lessen the effect even more.

"When did it become policy to discuss a teacher's personal life behind their back?" asked Charles.

All the boys looked at each other.

"Ever **been** to High School?" asked Sean.

"Fine, fine," said Charles, "I will have you know that I took the appropriate legal steps to a relationship with a colleague."

They shared another glance.

"Good for you?" said Hank tentatively.

"Can't see how that would be a problem. Don't you own the school or something?" snorted Alex, "Some romantic you are.'

"I highly doubt you're any better," Sean said.

"Hey, you've never seen my mad skills with the ladies."

"Yeah, I'm sure you had a lot of time to romance girls in that jail cell," retorted Sean.

"Alright, let's not go there," Charles said, raising a hand.

Sean and Alex stared at each other.

"Right," said Alex, turning to Charles, "You're the one we're here to make fun of, not each other."

He groaned. Soon he was bombarded on all sides.

"So, you two in love or something?" Alex asked.

"How many kids you want?" laughed Sean, "Better act fast before all the rooms in the mansion fill up."

"Can I be best man?" Hank said, putting a finger to his chin thoughtfully, "Obviously the blue fur would go the best with a white tux but other than that I don't think they'll be any problems."

"Hey, her initials would be M.L.X.!" exclaimed Alex.

"L?" Sean asked.

"Yeah, her middle name's Laura. So M.L.X!"

"Does that stand for something?"

"No, but it sounds awesome."

Charles shook his head.

"I can't believe I ever thought of you as mature young adults," he said, rubbing his temples, "Moira was right."

"I often am."

He groaned again as the door to the Danger Room opened and admitted Moira. She frowned at Charles' exasperated state and the three grins that were directed at her.

"Little confused as to what I was right about though," she said.

Almost immediately the grins got bigger.

"Moira and Charles sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-" sang Alex.

"That's quite enough, session's over for today," Charles said loudly.

"-G," finished Alex, "I'm going, I'm going."

"Not fast enough," muttered Charles.

The boys filed out the door, Alex even giving Charles a final wink before he shut the door. With a third and final groan Charles buried his face in his hands.

"So, training go well today?" Moira asked.

"It got off course," he said wryly, "as you saw."

"I suppose we had that coming," she said.

"No we didn't," Charles said, making a face, "They seem to be under the impression we're getting married sweetheart."

"Ah, the kids want mommy and daddy to get married," laughed Moira.

He smiled, although a small part of him wanted to know what was so strange about the idea to her. Charles wasn't one to leap into something as serious as marriage lightly. Yet, he had thought over this whole relationship from every conceivable angle before he had even considered going out with her.

And would being with this woman for the rest of his life be such a bad thing? He already knew that he didn't mind being near her, talking with her, having her close to him. Maybe he wasn't marriage ready; time was a large factor in that. What he was feeling at the moment tended to disregard time though.

In the middle of his thoughts she kneeled down so she was nearly level with him.

"Charles?" asked Moira.

"Yes?" he responded.

"You were miles away. Penny for your thoughts?"

"That's a steal," he said, "My thoughts are worth at least a dollar. And those are just the ones about breakfast. The ones you're referring to are worth ten, and that's at wholesale."

"I know. I'm just cheap," she said, "So, come on."

"Well…" he said, tilting his head in speculation, "I was just thinking about how the boys were right about one thing. Or at least they should be."

"And that is?"

He reached up.

"I'm simply wondering why we aren't K-I-S-S-I-N-G at the moment."

She rolled her eyes.

"And you call **them **immature."

"Perhaps, but I'm very charming."

Moira leaned down and brushed her lips against his.

"You're right about that," she whispered.


	11. Chapter 11

"I get to drive with you!" Doug sang.

Moira shook her head as she got into the car. She knew it had been a bad idea to agree to his request. Doug immediately crawled into the passenger's seat and buckled in. His head barely came up any higher than the dashboard since he was small for his age. She had wanted him in the back seat, but perhaps it was better this way. At least she'd be able to keep an eye on him.

"This isn't a huge expedition. I'm just going down to the store," she said, buckling herself in.

"Yeah, but I heard you're gettin' stuff for the Professor's birthday," he said, "Surprise party! I love those!"

So Doug had gotten wind of it, had he? Their idea of a surprise party was just a token of appreciation for the man who had changed their lives. Sean had come up with the idea and roped the rest of them in. Alex had made them swear to secrecy even though he couldn't keep a secret to save his life, proved by the incident in the Danger Room. In fact she was willing to bet that it was Alex who had leaked it.

"How did you hear about that?" asked Moira, turning the keys in the ignition.

"Hank's computer told me," Doug replied, "It likes me."

She frowned and pulled out of the driveway. They had saved a list of items and ideas on Hank's computer. It had been printed out; she had it with her so that she could use it as a shopping list in the town. Hank had been helpful during the whole event, but she hadn't thought he'd just leave his computer open on that.

"You mean you read it on his computer?" Moira asked.

"No, I talked to it and it told me," he said.

She paused.

"You can talk to computers?" she asked.

"T.V.'s too," he said, "I'm working on phones but so far nothing."

Moira filed that away. It was something to mention to Charles.

"Anyway," Moira said, "It's going to be a quiet event, just the staff, Alex, Hank, Sean-"

"And you because you're in love," interrupted Doug.

She nearly slammed her foot on the brake. Luckily she was able to avoid doing it.

"Doug!" she exclaimed.

"It's true!" he protested, "You're going to get married, aren't you?"

"I-"

"And then I can come to that and eat cake," continued Dough, "And then you need to hurry up and have kids so I can play with 'em before I get old enough to have my own."

If she didn't have to keep her eyes on the road then she would have stared at him.

"You…really have this planned out," she said.

"Yup," said Dough cheerfully, "You should too. I mean, you're nearly thirty. That's really old."

"Thank you so very much," Moira said dryly.

"But you should definitely marry the Professor," said Doug, "Be Mrs. Professor. Sounds better than Ms. MacTaggart by far."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said.

She shook her head. Was it that obvious that the two of them were together? Did they look like they were prepared to get married?They weren't sneaking around, but it would have looked unprofessional for the students to run into two staff members making out. It was embarrassing enough with Alex. At least he had only told Hank and Sean. Oh, and one of them may have told Doug. Again, probably Alex.

Mrs. Professor indeed. As uncomfortable as it made her to talk about her relationship to a ten year old she did have to wonder. Would it be so bad if that was what ended up happening? She would stay with Charles and the school for the rest of her life. It certainly wasn't what she'd envisioned when she was little, but the CIA was out of bounds for her now. The more she thought about it the more she saw that perhaps it was a desirable outcome, if not one that was far in the future.

"I think you should have balloons," Doug said, "A party without balloons is no fun."

"Sure thing," she said, redirecting her attention to Doug, "Balloons are very festive."

"Good," Doug said, "Do you know how balloons are made? I do. They take some rubber and then they-"

Whatever he had been planning on saying was cut short by a man appearing in the middle of the road. Moira slammed on the breaks, putting them into a tail spin, but the man had disappeared. Seconds later something stopped the car's progression with a jolt. Her head jerked forward and then slammed into her seat. Next to her she heard Doug whimper.

In the review mirror she saw someone in red. She tried to focus on him just as the doors to the car forced themselves open. The buckles gave way on their seatbelts and Doug grabbed onto her arm in fear. All of the metal in her clothing started to vibrate. When she felt herself get pulled out of the car Doug was with her, gripping all the tighter. As the pavement of the road came nearer she encircled Doug with her arms so he wouldn't be hit upon impact.

The impact never came. Instead they were set gently down but Doug just grabbed the front of her shirt. She started to make comforting sounds as Doug began to cry. Footsteps approached them and she looked up. Her eyes finally focused. Moira swallowed, her grip on Doug not loosening.

"Hello Erik," she said, keeping her voice calm.

Azazel appeared next to him, looking at her with disgust.

"I prefer Magneto," Erik said, "And who is the boy?"

Something in her mind flicked about Erik not wanting to harm other mutants. At least Doug would be safe if she could communicate his X gene to Erik.

"Doug. He's a student at Charles' school," she said.

"Oh? He takes such young students," said Erik, kneeling down.

His tone was conversational, almost friendly. Moira knew that this wasn't a social visit though. If that was how he wanted to play this, then she could go along with it. It might give her time to think of something, although she couldn't imagine what. She had no weapons with her and the school was some distance away.

She bit her lip. Charles. Moira wished that she hadn't allowed him to tip-toe around her mind for so long. Then he might be able to feel her fear. Yet, he had tried to be extremely careful around her once she returned. He hadn't even touched her mind once since she came back.

There was nothing she could do about that now though. She had to keep concentrated on the situation at hand. And right now Erik was smiling at Doug.

"What's you power?"

Doug peered out and glared at Erik.

"Go…go away," he said.

"Do they teach any manners at your school?" he asked, "Because if they had then you would know better than to use that sort of tone with adults."

"Erik, please don-" she started.

The metal in her watch tightened. She winced in pain.

"You can speak when spoken to," Erik said, "But Doug, you shouldn't look to people like her for comfort like she's a teddy bear. And you shouldn't fear people like me. We're the same."

Doug shook his head. His fear was practically palpable. She tried to manuever Doug so that she was all but shielding him from the man in front of her.

"Erik, what do you want?" Moira asked.

Her watch tightened again and she had to grit her teeth.

"A good question, if not out of turn," he said, "And I did specify Magneto. But we need to ask you a few questions. You're going to need to come with Azazel and I."

Azazel gave her an unpleasant, toothy grin.

"If you come quietly then you won't be harmed," continued Erik.

"Well that epends on what questions you ask," she said.

He shook his head.

"Moira, Moira," he said, "You don't seem to understand your position. We are alone on this road. For all anyone at the school knows you'll be out several hours. So I suggest you make the choice to come with us in the spirit of cooperation that Charles is so fond of."

"Or?" she asked.

Erik directed his gaze down at Doug.

"He seems rather fond of you. It's adorable," he said, "But all children lose their teddy bears at one point or another. Or the teddy bear could lose the child. Either way."

She felt ice in her veins. Apparently she had been wrong about the X gene.

"Don't you take her anywhere!" Doug snapped, tears still on his face and still clinging tightly to her.

"Shhh," Moira said.

He hadn't realized that he was included in that threat. She resisted the urge to try to let him understand how dire his situation was and instead concentrated on keeping him calm.

"Adorable," said Erik, "But then again, no one has to lose anything. You could allow him to keep his bear if you think that's best. Now, do you want to keep him with you or have him sent back to the school?"

"You wouldn't take him," Moira said, keeping her voice calm, "He's just a child."

"Children tend to get caught in the crossfire a great deal," he answered, "But we wouldn't harm him. We don't harm our own kind. We'd simply…bring him along."

_And feed him your propaganda?_ she thought, _Lock him up somewhere? What would you do once you'd 'brought him along' Erik? _

"I think he should go back to the school," Moira said.

"I don't!" protested Doug.

She tilted her head down so she was whispering in his ear. It was in Mandarin, a language that by the look on Erik's face he didn't understand.

"_You don't want to go with me right now_," she said, "_These are bad people, but I'll be fine. You need to get back to the school and tell them what happened. Tell them that Erik came and took Moira. They'll understand. Can you do that?_"

He nodded and detached himself from her.

"What were you telling him?" asked Erik.

"Just to go back to the school," she said, "He likes that language. Says it's calming."

"Cute," said Erik, "Azazel, take him home."

Azazel grabbed Doug by the shoulder and disappeared. He reappeared seconds later but Doug was nowhere to be seen. Azazel held his hand out to her. Erik smiled.

"Now Moira, come along."

Swallowing bile she got up and took Azazel's proffered hand. There was a flash of black and the road stood empty.


	12. Chapter 12

**_A/N: _**_Since _**_BecStar94 _**_had a question but I couldn't send a private message, Doug's power is that he can understand all languages including human, alien, technological, body, and architectural. As Cypher he found a place as a sort of 'research' X-man._

* * *

><p>The metal of Cerebro's helmet pressed into Charles' skull. He tapped the sides of the machine impatiently as Hank hurried to attach cables. Alex and Sean had been enlisted to help him, although they were doing more of the menial jobs. Charles found himself wishing for more mutants who could tell a circuit from an extension cord.<p>

"Hurry up," he said, tapping the his armrests.

"I'm going as fast as I can," Hank said, biting a cord in two before wiring it into another.

Sean and Alex exchanged looks with each other, although neither of them stopped working. It had been two hours since a dazed Doug had appeared on the threshold of the school. The boy had been unharmed but crying. He had looked terrified and kept repeating, in languages ranging from Russian to Swahili;

"Erik came and took Moira."

None of the teachers knew what it meant, but Charles knew. So had Hank, Alex, and Sean who had froze when they heard. He had quickly scanned Doug's mind to see what had happened. Despite the evidence to the contrary Charles still believed that his old friend and former ally wouldn't actually hurt Moira. Erik wasn't that far gone, the situation wasn't that dire, but he couldn't help but worry.

With no leads their best option was Cerebro. Ever since the original had been broken, something which had taken Hank years to build, it required a massive effort to use. Hank was working on ways to get it back to its original condition, but he had not been able to yet. Each time he used it he had to hook everything up in certain ways to keep it stable. Erik probably believed it was still broken, which would account for him returning Doug willingly.

Usually Charles had waited patiently while things were hooked up. In this case, not so much. He knew he had to though. Panic made people make stupid decisions. He didn't know if Magneto's helmet would allow him to remain undetected by Cerebro. This wasn't the time to figure it out either. Charles' next thought was Raven, but he had promised and he had other options. Emma Frost would know if he prodded her mind. So he had to go for Azazel, whom he knew was still with Erik.

"We have power transfer," Hank said, motioning the other two away.

They quickly leapt to the sidelines. Charles fixed the helmet securely and waited, his arms gripping the rests even tighter now. Hank flipped a switch and immediately Charles' vision went gray and foggy. There were shapes in the fog that were becoming more defined. He flicked through them one after another.

After what seemed like an eternity he found Azazel. He had walked into a room with Raven. If he concentrated he could see Moira there too. He started to breathe in heavily, trying to calm himself down as he saw her sitting in a chair and her hands encircled with metal cuffs. Rage was coming, rage that he forced himself to swallow.

Emma Frost entered the room soon after and Charles withdrew. He didn't want to run the risk that she would notice them. He made a motion and Hank shut the machine off.

"Boston, Massachusetts," he said, "Twenty minutes outside the city in an abandoned military compound."

"I'll fire up the Blackbird. We'll make it there in no time," said Hank.

"I'll get into my ridiculous suit," Alex said.

"And I'll get the matching cape," Sean added glumly.

The levity was lost on him.

"I don't think there's a need for all of you to come," Charles protested.

"You'll need help," Sean said, "We'll be fine. We've been training for this sort of thing."

"It's not that sort of thing," Charles assured, "I'm sure that I can persuade Erik to let her go. Events might have made us part ways but I know him, and I know Raven. Whatever he **thinks **he needs her for can be circumvented. This doesn't have to end in combat."

All three of his students looked at each other.

"Professor," Hank said cautiously, "Um…Moira never really got on with him…never really got on with Raven either…and she's a human..."

He trailed off, not wanting to tell Charles that his friend would hurt the woman he loved.

"Last time we met him he said he wanted to get rid of all humans," Alex stepped in, "As Hank pointed out, she's a human. You must have noticed. Now I'm not saying they'd kidnap humans one by one to kill them off the good old fashioned way but-"

At the horrified look that Charles was sure came over his face Hank took over again. He all but shoved Alex away.

"We just don't think he's inclined to treat her gently," he said diplomatically.

Charles looked desperately at them, but all three of them looked like they believed his words. No, Raven wouldn't let it go that far. Yet, Raven had preferred Erik's ideas to Charles. Who knew how much she had changed since he'd last seen her? On the beach Erik had nearly strangled Moira with her own dog tags. And he had threatened Doug, although Doug didn't seem to be aware that that was what had happened.

The evidence didn't seem to point to Erik as someone who could be reasoned with. Charles wanted to believe the best of him, and he had. Then Erik sent a metal coin through Shaw's head and tried to destroy the armadas of two countries. Was he willing to risk Moira's life over a vague hope that his friend and sister would listen to him?

"Alright," he said, "Get the suits and get prepared. I just hope we won't need them."

* * *

><p>"Time to wake up."<p>

Moira groggily did so and stared into yellow eyes. Mystique inclined her head.

"She's up."

"Noted," Erik commented.

Mystique moved away and took a seat nearby. Emma Frost was leaning up against a wall, looking at her nails like she was bored. Moira discreetly tried her hands and legs only to find that metal bands encircled them, melding her to a metal chair. Everywhere she was sitting was a potential death trap.

"Now Moira," said Erik, "there are some questions I need to ask you about the security at Langley. If you'd be so good to answer them then we can get done quickly."

She stared at him.

"You've brought me here to ask me about that?" asked Moira.

"I just have," Erik said.

Despite the gravity of the situation Moira burst out laughing. She continued until one of the metal bands on her wrist tightened and she had to stop from the pain.

"What's so funny?" asked Erik.

"I quit the CIA over seven months ago," she said, "It was a few weeks after we…parted."

"Guess nearly getting blown up killed your patriotic fervor," Emma said, not looking up.

She shook her head.

"No, that wasn't it."

"And what was it then?" asked Mystique, her voice a sneer.

She had to repress a flinch at Mystique's expression. Fear was instinctive, but you didn't have to follow your instincts. Moira knew the moment she showed visible fear at their appearances would be the moment she'd have trouble looking Charles in the eye again. If, of course, she ever saw him again.

Moira shook the thought out of her head. She would remain calm and keep her wits about her. The CIA had given her training for these kinds of situations. Besides, no matter what happened tis was a man she had had a civil conversation with not a year ago. She could do this.

"Don't worry about not understanding. My boss didn't either. But make no mistake," she said, "I am willing to die for my country. I'm just not willing to see teenagers get killed."

"But unless there's been a compete redecoration of the compound you probably still know it pretty well I'm guessing," said Erik, "Emma."

Emma stepped forward and closed her eyes. Moira braced herself but nothing happened. Looking irritated Emma opened her eyes again.

"I can't read her mind."

"What?" asked Erik.

"There's some sort of block there," she said, "Something your friend must have done."

Apparently Charles had lied about staying out of her mind. In this case she didn't mind.

"You know, Emma tells me you're still at the manor," Erik said.

Moira nodded her head. It was probably smarter to keep from actually saying anything until necessary.

"It's a rather clever scheme," said Erik, "You raise them around a token human who helps them discover themselves and takes care of them. Then when they're older they'll think they're not all bad."

"Like a pet," Mystique said, nodding her head in amusement.

"Yeah, a pet who's shacking up with her boss," Emma chimed in.

Moira's blood boiled and she gritted her teeth. It was taking everything in her not to try to make a lunge towards Emma's pretty blonde head. It wouldn't have done anything except perhaps knock herself over, but it would let her at least feel like she was doing something to wipe that smile off her face.

"Now, let's not get too personal," Erik said.

That was too much.

"Too late for that," she snorted.

"Excuse me?" asked Erik.

She sighed. So much for not saying anything.

"You've made this personal for Charles already," she explained.

"I've done nothing against him," said Erik.

A nerve in his eyebrow twitched. She shouldn't have, but she laughed. Their earlier insults had grated on her nerves.

"You attacked one of his employees and a student of his on the road," said Moira, "while one of his students was in the car. I'd call that pretty personal. Or do you just twist the truth to make yourself feel better?"

Another nerve twitched and the metal around her ankle tightened. Before she fully comprehended what was going on the pressure doubled and she heard a snap. She screamed, barely able to register the surprise on the faces of everyone in the room. Mystique blinked and stared at Erik, who was taking deep breaths.

A focus came into his eyes. He straightened.

"I...I'm sorry Moira. I didn't mean to," he said, "Emma, get medical supplies."

"We're healing her?" asked Emma in disgust, "Why should we-?"

"Do as you're told."

Emma rolled her eyes and stormed out of the room. The pain was throbbing in waves now.

"Now then," continued Erik, his words forced, "when you say you're willing to die for your country, I assume you refer to the security of Langley as well."

Despite the pain Moira nodded. He sighed.

"Emma's inability in this matter has changed our plans somewhat. We're going to need your cooperation. So I hope you change your mind when you talk about dying," he said, "I sincerely do.


	13. Chapter 13

"So, how are we going to do this?" asked Sean, "Last time was pretty straight-forward."  
>"How was <strong>that <strong>straight forward?" Alex snorted.

The two of them were sitting in the back of the Blackbird, harnessed in. Hank was at the controls. Sean wondered if there was an air traffic control officer out there tonight. He didn't know what the speed limit was for planes but he figured they were breaking it. Would that constitute a breaking of international air-space laws, or just a speeding ticket? He didn't know.

Across from them sat Charles. He hadn't said much since he gave them the go ahead to come. He'd just come in, rested his chin on his hand, and stared off into space. He hadn't even moved since the flight began. Sean hoped that meant that he was thinking up a full-proof battle plan and not lapsing into depression.

"We knew who we were fighting though, what the objective was…even if things got hairy at the end," Sean pointed out, "I know you guys have my back, I just don't know how we're gonna do this."

Nervously he picked at his collar. He wondered what Maeve would say if she saw him in it, matching cape and all. She'd probably laugh her pretty laugh. The suit was just as he remembered it; uncoordinated and relatively uncomfortable. There was, however, one slight change from what he remembered.

When they had gotten the suits out from the storage locker they'd found that an 'X' patch surrounded in a circle had been sewed onto the upper right corner of the suits. They had all turned to Hank, their resident fashion designer. He'd shaken his head before picking out his own and examining it.

"Anybody know who sewed these on?" asked Hank.

"Most likely Moira," Charles had said, "She said we were X-men now. I suppose she thought we should look the part. Probably some form of a surprise."

He'd steepled his fingers and pursed his lips for a moment. Very quickly, and simultaneously, they decided to drop the subject. Hank had insisted that Charles wear his old suit in case they came under fire. Charles hadn't said anything in protest but it was plain to see that he was going to be staying in the Blackbird for their excursion.

Next to him Alex readjusted his gloves.

"Then I don't see what you're getting at," Alex said, "It's grab and go."

"Yeah, but we never really fought against them before," said Sean, "I don't know what they're planning on doing. Do they even know we're coming?"

"They can't think that we're just going to leave her," Alex said.

"I don't think they were thinking at all," Hank said, not turning around, "But if I had to wager a guess then I'd say that it's one of two options. Either they don't know we can use Cerebro or they were counting on us coming. Could be a trap."

"Well aren't you just Mr. Sunshine?" asked Alex, "If they wanted to talk to us, they know our number. We could've gotten together, ordered pizza."

There was a very long pause.

"Have you lost your mind?" Hank snapped, "Because I'm trying to fly this thing and I don't have time to help you find it."

"Whoa," Alex said, putting up his hands defensively, "Let's not get hasty. We probably wouldn't have ordered pizza. I'm just trying to say that if they had something to say to us then it could've been done better. We were friends after all."

"Hey, they took Moira," Sean said, "I don't think that's the act of people who want to be friends anymore."

From across the way Charles' head jerked up.

"Say that again," he demanded.

Sean shrunk back into his harness.

"Um-"

"Sean," Charles said, his voice dangerous.

"I just said that they took Moira-"

"After that."

"-and that that's probably not something people who want to be friends anymore do?"

Charles stared at him. Sean swallowed and said nothing. He wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

"The funny thing is that I was thinking how strange all of this was. This time last year we were training with them. And yet here we sit," Charles said, "Ready to do battle with people who were once our friends because, as Sean so eloquently put it they 'took Moira'. And that is not something they would do if we were their allies."

Folding his arms across his chest Charles added;

"This was not something I ever wanted to do. But it appears that it will **have **to be done. We can't predict them because I'm not sure we know them anymore. So we are going to have a plan Sean, and this is what it's going to be."

* * *

><p>"To some extent I feel sorry for you."<p>

Emma saw Moira look up. She gave one of her winning smiles before putting down a medical kit she had gathered. Still smiling she placed a second gag over the one that Mystique had placed on Moira's mouth earlier. Emma knew it had everything to do with the fact that Mystique disliked her and nothing to do with safety. There was no one to hear her if she screamed; no one who cared anyway.

"You see," Emma said, tying the second gag securely, "I generally don't care which homo sapien gets the short end of the stick. I guess you know that from the company I keep."

Taking a step back Emma pondered if she should use a third gag.

"But you're a special case. See, Shaw once told me that a good hunter feels no empathy for its prey. That way you can become completely detached," Emma said, "Now, if you were actually my prey here then I wouldn't be having this monologue with you."

Deciding that the second gag was enough she went to the door and locked it from the inside. You couldn't be too careful. Then she walked over to the medical kit. She eyed it before giving it a strong kick. The kick crashed into the wall, opening up and spilling its contents all over the floor.

"I've been wanting to do that since he asked me to fetch it, like I was his **servant** or something," she laughed.

Emma pulled up a chair and placed it so that it was facing Moira. She got into it, folding her hands in her lap and looking at Moira with a frank and open expression.

_The hell is she doing? _she heard Moira think.

"I should've told you this at the beginning of our little chat," said Emma, "But I lied. I can read all your thoughts right now. I could make you bite on your own tongue and drown in your own blood if I wanted to."

_Stay calm Moira, stay calm, _Moira thought to herself.

Her worry was amusing.

"Don't worry; I don't want to do that. Serves no purpose," said Emma, "But I was saying earlier is that you're being used here. Everyone is using you; like a regular doormat. And it's really not your fault."

She gave a tragic sigh.

"But you've been used by your government, to some extent your boyfriend if what Magneto said is true," grinned Emma, "And finally people you used to think of as allies. Not me obviously; I was always the enemy. But Magneto and Mystique back there? You used to think you could trust them, didn't you?"

Moira's eyes were fixed on her. Emma knew she was taking in all of the information she was giving out. For this reason she wasn't normally one to monologue; there was always the chance that a potential victim could escape. However; it didn't matter what she told Moira. She wouldn't remember it soon.

"And the really funny thing is Mystique thinks I'm her friend," she said, "No, worse, the little snot thinks I **admire** her."

Emma laughed again.

"I didn't even really have to work that hard," she continued, "But she trusts me. And she told me that after we're done with you I should erase your memories. And I'm not talking about bits and pieces. She told me she wanted it all gone. Everything from when you first went to the Hellfire Club up until now. I told her I'd do it."

The thoughts that came from Moira were loud, defiant, panicked.

_No! These are mine, I'm keeping them. I'm not losing anything else. Never again, never again, __**never again!**_

Her panic was palpable, more like a scream than a thought.

"Lucky for you I'm a chronic liar," said Emma, amused, "So breathe easy."

Moira's thoughts dwindled away into an underlying suspicion.

"I orchestrated all of this you know," Emma said, "I needed to get away and I thought that a battle between old friends would be the perfect cover. I'm rather proud of the situation. In many respects it's turned out even better than I thought it would."

Tossing her head back Emma flashed another grin.

"Only problem is that I couldn't goad Magneto into torturing you," she said, "Which would keep the two groups busy for a **very **long time. All he did was give you a few bruises around your wrists and break your ankle by accident. Those can be explained away. No doubt if your boyfriend comes across you you'll say it happened when the car crashed. Don't deny it, because I'm a telepath and I know what you were planning. You don't want him to have to fight his friend. Very self-sacrificing."

Emma got up.

"There was a whole war fought over an officer who got his ear cut off way back when. Called The War of Jenkin's Ear," she said, "I won't be quite so mutilating, but this does have to be terrible. Otherwise it won't work."

All of Moira's thoughts were tensing up, ready for whatever was going to come next. She had **no **idea. Emma's hand crystalized and she struck Moira in the stomach. There was a cracking noise. A muffled cry of pain came from her, hidden by the two gags that Emma had made sure were secure.

"You might have found that that's what the second gag is for, so no one can take pity on you when you scream," Emma said, letting her hand go back to normal, "The best part of this is I can actually create a memory, so it won't be just like this when you think of any of this next. I'll add some things. Not the first time I've repressed memory or added one."

Her friend might be the master illusionist, but she wasn't too bad herself. He had given her a tip or two over their long acquaintance. Some things had to be real though. Reaching into her pocket Emma took out a box of long matches. She struck one and held it a little distance away from herself.

"From riffling through your memories I see you have a thing about cigarette burns," said Emma, "It's a good place to start."


	14. Chapter 14

Charles breathed in, then out. He had to keep calm. His outburst earlier, while it had culminated in him outlining a plan, had done little to help. It had, however, shown his team how on edge he was. If he wanted a smooth rescue of Moira then he would have to keep a tighter rein on his emotions.

He also had to start being useful. His mind was his greatest, and only weapon. Hopefully it would help him in his time of need.

"How far away are we from the facility?" he asked.

"I'd say about twenty minutes," Hank answered, "Why?"

"I think that puts me within range to try and contact Moira," he said, "I've never done it quite so far before, but I'll give it a try."

Hank nodded and returned his attention to the controls. The others remained respectfully silent as Charles put two fingers to his temple and closed his eyes. Moira's mind wasn't as familiar to him as he would have liked in such an experiment. His desperation to have her trust him was, in this situation, more of a burden than anything. If he had ventured in her mind more often then he could be more certain of the outcome. Part of him actually felt guilty for what he was about to do, but it was an emergency.

So he reached out. Charles pictured what little he had seen of the facility that Erik had taken up residence in. He had found in the past that using a picture of where something was generally helped him find it. A faint image appeared in his mind; like a T.V. with too much interference. It even crackled with static. He concentrated harder, so much so that it felt like someone was driving something into his mind.

Then the image sharpened. It felt like he was traveling along the tunnels, searching. Finally he felt, under the choking pressure of his long-distance telepathy, something warm and familiar. He couldn't help but give a weak smile at the feel of it. Whatever else had happened, she was alive. He'd been right. Pushing away all hesitation he dove into her mind.

_At first everything felt wobbly; completely normal. He started to articulate a message when a flash of white stabbed into his mind. It was followed by another in quick succession. His stomach lurched; he had seen similar flashes when Erik had pushed the coin through Shaw's skull. That had been one long flash that had increased in intensity throughout before blinking away. What was happening now consisted only of short bursts but that did little to comfort him. _

_When the light cleared he found himself in a back alley. He blinked and turned. Charles could see Moira pressed up against a wall. There was a bruise on her left temple and a cut on her lip. She was struggling, but the large man was pinning her to the wall with apparent ease. One of his hands held a smoking cigarette. _

"_Joe," she said, her voice surprisingly even, "You're drunk."_

"_Shut up," he snapped, "You're a right nuisance. Always thought you were too good with your pretty looks. Time to take you down to earth."_

_He pressed the cigarette towards her face, towards her eye. Her arm went up to block her face and the cigarette was placed there instead. She gasped from the pain and there was a flash of white. Charles started forward, only to go through both of them. Of course; it was only a memory. It didn't stop him from wanting to try to help though._

_The hand that she had managed to raise clawed at Joe's face. With another move she was free of him and he was on the floor. Moira kicked him in the stomach and then the head, knocking him out, before running to the end of the alley. Then the memory started over again, the setting not real but the pain very much so. When the memory started up a third time he caught a glimpse of the room that they had tied her in earlier. _

_There was a match being held precariously near her arm. Her head lolled slightly so that he could see it was Erik who was holding the match. His breath caught as he looked from the match to his old friend. The match was burning down, but Raven was ready with another one. In the back he could see Emma Frost, bored. _

_He couldn't believe it. There must have been some mistake; this wasn't real. This couldn't be happening. Yet, it was what was in her mind. She couldn't make up something like this then have him see it. Telepathy didn't work that way. He choked back a sob as Erik flicked the match's flame away into the air._

"_We can keep going. I'd rather not but we could," Erik said, "I'd like the names and events now."_

_Charles could practically feel the tears coursing down her cheeks from the pain. There was a pain in her stomach and foot, but he didn't know what they were caused by. All he could feel were dull white flashes with every breath she took. Something seemed to be choking her too, but he couldn't tell what. He tried to send something soothing, at least say he was there, but it was blocked out. The biggest possibly for that was Emma. _

_To his growing horror he saw Erik take the match that Mystique proffered. He sighed and shook his head. _

"_Again Emma."_

_The alley was back. _

"Professor!"

Charles' eyes snapped open. He looked at Alex, who had unbuckled and gone over to him. To his shock he found that there were tears in his eyes and his head was pounding.

"You started moaning," said Alex nervously, "Are you okay?"

Was he okay? Was he okay that he had just witnessed his friend and sister participate in torturing his lover? Was he okay that the worst memory she had was being turned against Moira? Was he okay that everything he had once hoped for Erik and Raven would never be now, could never be, because they had crossed a line that they could never return from?

Charles wanted to scream that no, he wasn't okay. For the first time in a long time he wasn't frustrated or disappointed. He wasn't sad. No, he was furious. How dare they betray him like this, after what they had all been to each other? How dare they hurt her? How dare Erik let this happen? How dare Raven hand him the match?

He swallowed all the feelings and fixed Alex with a steely look. Alex took a few steps back.

"Get back into your seat Alex. I'm fine," he lied.

Alex nodded, harnessing himself in.

"Hank?" said Charles.

"Yes Professor?"

"Speed up."

His head still pounding he turned to the rest of his students.

"You may be wondering what I've just seen," he said.

* * *

><p>"What would you have me do Mystique?" snapped Erik.<p>

They strode together down a long hallway that led to the upper level of the facility. For the past ten minutes Mystique had been haranguing him on the subject of their prisoner. The helmet he wore constantly prevented Charles from entering his mind. He was starting to wish that there was some way to block **her** out too.

"Something!" she snapped back, "Right now we're tip-toeing around her like she's some sort of honored guest! We brought her here in order to get information out of her. So far we have nothing! Nothing at all!"

"We've threatened her an hour ago, and I broke her ankle," Erik said.

Inwardly he shuddered. He hadn't planned on doing that. Yet, he had lost that place of perfect control. That place between rage and serenity had left him, simply being replaced with rage. Erik desperately needed that control. If he didn't have it then he knew he'd have a snowball's chance in hell of leading the Brotherhood.

"Yes, and then you apologized for it."

"It was an accident," Erik snapped, his teeth clenching,"Don't worry; we'll try something a little more drastic if it turns out she hasn't cracked."

"How drastic?"

"I'm thinking about it."

She snorted as he moved the metal in the lock to open the door to the upper level of the compound.

"Charles probably knows she's gone by now. We don't know if he has any way to find us. If he does then he'll already be on his way," Mystique said, starting to climb up the stairs, "What could we do in that amount of time that would make any difference?"

"I am trying to figure these things out," Erik said, "You need to be patient and stop doubting me."

"I have faith in you, I'm just saying-"

"Do you really want to hurt her that badly?"

Mystique blinked.

"I never said that I wanted to do that."

"No, but you implied it," snarled Erik, "Did you just want me to fill in the blanks? Now tell me, do you really want to hurt her so badly?"

She bit her lip.

"No…" she said, "I just…she's bad for him. Charles I mean. I know she's not working for the CIA anymore, or so she claims, but…"

For once she looked again like the vulnerable young woman who had entered his room that night nearly a year before.

"I understand," Erik said, facing her and putting his hands on her shoulders, "And I believe that your worries are well-founded."

She looked relieved enough to cry. He was starting to feel relieved as well. As leader of their small band he needed to keep its members in check. For the millionth time he wished Charles had come with him. Erik was woefully aware that, of the four students they had taught, only one decided to come with him. The rest had either been firm believers in Charles' philosophy or, as it was probably more likely, firm believers in Charles.

"But you must remember that we have gone our separate ways," sighed Erik, "He respected our choice, so you too should respect his."

"Even if they're bad ones?" she said, her eyes flashing towards the room where Moira was.

"I think he may feel the same about our decisions," said Erik, "and yet he still allowed us to leave. We are the ones to make our choices for a situation."

Looking slightly bitter Mystique nodded. Another wave of relief washed over him as they turned down another hall. That situation had been successfully defused; he doubted that even Charles could have done a better job. He was cut out for this, even if they were only taking baby steps at the time. He could retain control; he could make this work.


	15. Chapter 15

Alex blasted the side of the compound, letting the red energy flow freely through his chest plate. He was given few opportunities to let go as completely as he was now. Although sometimes he was afraid of his power he could honestly say he'd never felt as alive as he did when he was using it. It was a strange feeling of exhilaration, only compounded when he learned how to control it. He wondered if little Scott would feel that too when his time came.

After the first two blasts it didn't take him long to draw the attention of Erik's team. He had, in his worst case scenario, imagined Azazel coming for him. The teleporter still gave him the creeps after his fight with Hank. In his best case scenario it had been…well…no one since all those who had left with Erik were pretty intense.

So he didn't really feel one way or another when Angel and Riptide arrived. They hadn't said anything; both knew why the other was there. A blast was let out against Riptide, who had to jump sideways to doge. Angel spit some of her flaming saliva at him, which got blasted into nothing.

He sneered at her, his memory of Darwin's death was still fresh in his mind, before letting a full blast loose at her. She dodged it deftly, going higher into the sky to avoid any further blasts. With a smile and a wave Alex cheerfully covered his ears. Seconds later she was knocked out from a scream by Sean, who had just emerged from the jet which hovered overhead. To his credit Sean didn't just let her plummet, he grabbed her hand. He wasn't exactly gentle when he put her on the ground though.

Sean ran to his side just as Riptide started to kick up the wind. They both nodded to each other. Alex covered his ears, Sean screamed, and Alex let out a blast. The combination of the two sent Riptide into the wall. A further scream from Sean left him unconscious, slumping down to the ground.

It was a move that they had practiced quite a bit in the Danger Room since they thought it was clever. Charles thought it was too risky and left too much to chance. Alex would have to tell him what had happened later. Apparently they were right and he was wrong. It would be one of few victories, he was sure.

They high-fived each other as Mystique came out with Azazel. The smile slid off their faces.

"One moment," Mystique said coolly, holding Azazel back with her arm.

Azazel grimaced but did as he was told.

"There's no need to do this," she said.

Alex rolled his eyes.

"There sure as hell is," he said, "You think we'd just let this kind of thing go by?"

"You guys are sick," Sean declared.

Mystique glared at Sean.

"Can't you see what we're trying to do?" she asked, "We're trying to make thing safe for us. Mutant and-"

"-sick," interrupted Sean, looking at her with disgust, "Not all of us, but you. We know what you did to Moira!"

He had to admit that he wished he'd thought that up before Sean. For a minute he saw Mystique look a little puzzled and shocked before she resumed her stoic face.

"What was the point of this anyway?" Alex said, glaring at her, "Isn't Charles your brother or something?"

Apparently that had been the wrong thing to say. A second later he had to dodge a spiked foot that was heading for his face. He wasn't so lucky when it concerned her fist though, and was sent sprawling. Meanwhile Sean seemed to be doing a decent job with Azazel. Alex knew he'd have to have help soon though.

Azazel got behind Sean and pulled out something that looked like a knife. Alex scrambled to his feet. Feeling panicked he pushed past Mystique and aimed a blast at him. The teleporter disappeared in a puff of black smoke. From behind Mystique's foot knocked him down once more. He really did need to stop letting that happen.

On the ground Alex narrowly managed to avoid her foot again. When did she get so fast?

"If you all care about her so much," she snapped in between blows, "Why didn't you all come?"

Next to them Azazel kicked Sean to the ground and prepared to deliver a final blow. Then he abruptly stood perfectly still. Angry Sean got up and took in a deep breath. Mystique and Alex covered their ears as Sean screamed at him. Azazel, fell to the ground, victim of Charles' mind powers and Sean's scream. Alex smirked at her.

"Who says we didn't?"

* * *

><p>Hank lumbered through the halls. He wasn't moving for stealth now; most everyone would be distracted by Alex and Sean. They were a good distraction. Hank had entered through another breach and was hurrying through the corridors now. Using all of his new 'beastly' abilities was something new to him. So tracking Moira by scent was difficult, especially considering all of the other people who had been inside.<p>

Charles was in the back of his mind, trying to encourage him and see if he could help. He was grateful, although he felt him fade at times to assist Sean and Alex. In Hank's opinion he was trying to be everywhere at once. Hank knew that the two boys were on their own when it came to Mystique though. Or, after the latest atrocity, were they?

He tried not to think those thoughts, Charles might hear. He was still guiding him. As Charles hadn't seen the outside of the room Moira was in though, he wasn't much help. He could still help him with the layout of the facility and tell him when others were approaching though. Hank was infinitely grateful for that.

After a few minutes he smelt something smoky in the air. His primal instincts registered it as food, a lthough his more human mind knew exactly what it was. Dread forming in his stomach he went after it, skidding around corners. He could feel Charles' own worry building up too. It was making Hank feel nauseous. He'd never mention it to Charles, he had enough to deal with, but his anxiety was spilling over rather obviously.

Behind a door on his left he found what he thought to be the origin of the smell. At least, that was where it was coming from the strongest. With a few well-placed kicks, he had read that it was always easier to kick a door down than smash it with your shoulder, the metal door went down.

He walked in and was nearly overwhelmed by the burnt smell. Moira's head had lolled to the side. Her lip had been cut, blood trickling slowly down her neck. Burns covered her bare arms; he could see where the sleeves of her blouse had been ripped to allow the burns to have better contact with the skin. A few burns had even been speckled on her shoulder.

On further inspection one of her ankles was starting to swell in its metal band. There was a bloody patch on her shirt.

_You have to see if she's still alive, if she's alright_, Charles thought to him frantically, _You have to see._

Gingerly Hank touched the side of her face. She groaned and her eyes flickered open faintly.

"Hank?" she groaned.

"Yeah, Beast right now in the suit," he said, the joke not sounding funny at all, "Nice job with the patches Ms. Housekeeper."

"Thought it would look nice," Moira replied, her face looking drawn.

He nodded and knelt down. He could see that the swelling in her foot had only been aggravated by the metal band there.

"Are you…all here?" she coughed.

"Yeah, all of us," he said, "I'm going to have to break all of these cuffs now. You have a pretty bad ankle injury so I'm going to have to carry you back to the Blackbird."

Moira nodded. Her eyes started to slide out of focus, only to come back with clarity.

"Charles?" she whispered.

Hank recognized that the question wasn't directed at him. He was in her head now and Hank respectfully turned away. Whatever the two of them had to say to each other he knew he wasn't supposed to listen in on. So he wrapped his claws around the metal cuff on her foot and started to gently rip it away.

He could see now that the ankle was broken. Out of shock he accidentally jostled it with his hand. She gave a small cry of pain and Hank winced.

_Hank? _he heard Charles ask, _What's wrong with her ankle?_

Never in a million years would he understand how Charles could switch minds like that.

_I think it's broken. It definitely shouldn't be at that angle. And…_

_And what?_

Feeling nervous he looked up to where her shirt was bloodied.

"Moira, how's your stomach feel?"

"Hurts…each time I breathe."

_I think a rib is broken too_, he thought, _Cracked at least. Don't think it's punctured a lung though. _

There was a sullen silence and Hank took that as a cue to continue. He could afford to be rougher here because the foot wasn't damaged. Part of the situation required speed and he would need that now. When he came to her arms ripped one off and he could see that she stifled another noise. On closer examination saw that her wrists were badly bruised. Hank bared his teeth. It was just something else they needed to thank Erik for.

After ripping away the last of the metal cuffs he waved his hand to get her attention. She looked at him then. Her eyes were shining but focused. Whatever she'd been thinking about with Charles had helped. He could feel Charles back in his own mind now, telling him to come back the same way he had come and to do so quickly.

"I'm going to pick you up now," he said, "Is that okay Moira?"

"Best news I've heard all day," she rasped.

He gave her a toothy grin before picking her up bridal-style. Her teeth gritted together and he was reminded of just how frail her physical state had become. He would have to treat her like glass if he didn't want to cause her more pain. While Charles had been skimpy on the precise details of what he'd seen earlier, Hank knew enough. The beast inside him wanted to go out and take a swipe at Erik, but he knew getting her to safety was their first objective.

Controlling himself he bounded through the door, trying not to jostle her too much. 

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_There're only a few more chapters left in the story, although I was considering doing a sequel . _


	16. Chapter 16

Working through the world's worst migraine was not something that Charles had ever thought he would have to do. By the time he had held Azazel immobile the pain was there, but it was to the point where it had become so intense that it had actually disappeared. He knew it would come back later with a vengeance, but he didn't care.

He didn't care because, frankly, he couldn't. He told himself that, and believed it fervently, as he gripped the armrests of the wheelchair Hank had gotten out for him. He had to get Hank to Moira, and then get them both back to him. If he was lucky then no one else would be hurt. For now though his thoughts were of her.

She was in pain. He knew that, even as he was too preoccupied with bringing Hank through the facility to enter her mind. Charles didn't know the extent of her injuries; he had only had a glimpse of her after all. Yet, he knew that they would have only gotten worse since then. When he saw her through Hank's eyes, her head lolled to the side and her body limp, he had feared the worst.

Then she had moved. He had put a hand in front of his mouth then, a genuine smile coming for the first time in hours. Charles quickly moved in to try to soothe and assist.

_Moira? _he thought, his mind touching hers.

A mere second, a thought practically crying in relief;

_Charles?_

_It's me sweetheart, _he'd smiled, _We've come to get you out of here._

He started to try and soothe her mind. It was one of the first tricks he'd learned for when Raven was having nightmares. He'd gotten very good at it. Charles sent as much comfort that he could while keeping his own emotions under control. So far he thought that he was doing a rather good job at it.

So he was surprised when he felt himself temporarily floored by a white burst. Alarmed he sat up straighter.

_What happened?_

_Nothing, _she'd replied, sounding a little strained, _Hank just took the cuff of my ankle. He just touched it…something's wrong with it. _

Charles withdrew and entered Hank's mind.

_Hank? What's wrong with her ankle?_

_I think it's broken. It definitely shouldn't be at that angle. And…_

_And what?_

There was a pause.

_I think a rib is broken too. Cracked at least. Don't think it's punctured a lung though. _

He had to stomp down more anger before going back to Moira.

_It's nothing serious_, Charles reassured her, _Nothing that won't heal._

_Of course. Everything heals. _

Swallowing hard Charles said;

_I…I was in your mind earlier when we were approaching. I couldn't contact you but…I saw what they did to you. I'm so sorry sweetheart, so sorry. _

Her reply was hesitant.

_I wasn't going to say anything…_

_And why not? _he demanded.

_I couldn't…I…_

Suddenly he realized. She didn't want to talk about it for the same reason that she hadn't gone into detail about her cigarette burns. It was painful for her, and she hadn't wanted to be a burden to him.

The thought was strange. As a child he had a mother and stepfather that were far too busy with themselves for him. Then he had found his sister and, determined not to make the same mistakes as his parents, he had tried his hardest to take care of her. Later he had taken in the first of his students, and then more and more of them. To some extent he had even tried to take care of Erik.

In all that time no one had tried to take care of him, not really. By putting himself in the role of a caretaker he had put himself above it. And yet, here she was, trying to keep him from the truth in order to protect him. An ache started up in his chest, making him feel even more useless for not having kept her safe.

He wanted to tell her all of this; she needed to know. There were few words that he could use though, but he swallowed and said them.

_Never be afraid to tell me these things. I..I can't lose you, _he thought, _I should have told you this before but, Moira…I love you. _

There was silence for a moment. When she responded it was warm, he could feel her emotions rolling off her in waves.

_I love you too. _

Charles closed his eyes and clenched one of his hands into a fist.

_I'll see you soon, _he assured her.

He went to say something to Hank, but then the Blackbird shifted. He saw the metal in the sides of the plane start to fold in. The plane gave another massive shudder before plodding on the ground. Beneath him the chair shook but he didn't fall over. No one needed to tell him who was responsible for it.

His eyes saw red and he slammed on the button that lowered the ramp. It opened up onto the grassy field beneath them and he pushed at his wheels. Each time he did so he went faster, but careful not to go so fast that he'd crash at the bottom of the ramp. He wanted words with his old friend, and he did **not **want them to be given from a crumpled heap.

As he came down he saw Alex and Sean. They were pinned to a wall. He could see that the metal in Alex's chestplate had allowed him to be pushed up by Erik and thrown at Sean. There barbed wire held the two of them in place. Both of them were yelling things, so it hadn't stopped them from talking. Only his arrival had done that.

Since he had last seen Erik the helmet had been painted red. He had never pegged Erik as one for theatricals, but the cape and red garments certainly showed that he was. It seemed Erik had decided to play the role of the cinematic villain. From what Charles had seen he had certainly acted the part.

Raven, she could call herself anything she wanted but she'd always be Raven to him, was the first to notice him. Something like a smile came onto her face before he fully came into view. Tears sprang to her eyes and she tapped Erik on the shoulder. He turned and his mouth dropped open. No, neither of them would have known that Charles was confined to a wheelchair.

"I…I didn't know…" Erik stammered, "The bullet…?"

"Yes," Charles said irritably, "Yes."

A shamed look came on Erik's face and he looked down.

"You have every right to be mad at me," said Erik quietly, "But know that that was never what I intended to do."

Charles shook his head.

"You really want to talk about this now?" he asked, gesturing to himself, "Because, and I don't mean to be rude, this is not the time to talk about this. That time was a year ago, last month, yesterday even. But it is most certainly **not **now."

Erik and Raven were looking at him warily. He gave a frustrated sigh.

"I'll be brief. I don't blame either of you for what happened; it was an accident," Charles said, "Now let them go."

Erik frowned. The metal bands holding the boys relaxed. Both of them dropped to the ground. They got to their feet and watched the developing situation warily. They almost looked scared. It was only then that he realized that none of them had ever seen him angry before. They'd seen him disappointed, irritated, and sad, but they had never seen him angry. He sourly reflected that they were in for a treat now.

"Then why are you-?" started Erik.

"You need to ask?" snapped Charles, "A member of my faculty was snatched while she went into town on an errand with one of my students. And she was more than just faculty. You know that, don't you?"

His friend sighed.

"Yes Charles."

"And then she was tortured for God only knows what reason."

The look on Erik's face became confused.

"Granted, Charles, we did take her," said Erik, "But we didn't torture-"

"Playing innocent? You're much smarter than that Erik," said Charles, "I've seen her mind. I know what happened. I know what you did with the matches."

Raven looked over at Erik, almost shocked. What was she about? She had been there too, she knew what had happened.

"I've lost so much this last year," he said flatly, "An yet for some reason, after everything that's been taken from me, you felt the need to take her too. Why?"

They were both looking at him strangely but he ignored it. His voice took on a pleading edge as he continued speaking.

"Just tell me why, why you felt you had to do it. Help me understand. Raven…you would never… don't…just tell me," he begged, "Please Erik. Raven."

Slowly Erik started to shake his head.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Charles' expression went from supplication to disgust. Behind him Alex shouted;

"LIAR!"

Erik turned furiously at Alex.

"Do tell me what I did with the matches," he said, his voice hard, "because I seem to have forgotten. Were you there? Can you tell me what happened?"

"The Professor told us what you and Mystique did!" snapped Alex, "That's good enough for me!"

"And what did we do?" demanded Erik, "What did we do?"

"This for starters."

The voice was a low growl. Charles turned his head and saw Hank carrying a barely-conscious Moira. In the dying light of the day her broken ankle and burns were particularly prominent. Before this he hadn't known her wounds were quite so bad, that she was speckled with them. The break in her ankle was worse than he'd thought too, he could see the bone.

No one said anything. Charles gave Moira a despairing look before turning to Erik, whose face was blank.

"He really didn't," Raven said, "I…I don't know how…"

Charles shook his head bitterly.

"I've seen her memories. I know you two were there. I saw you using the same methods Shaw used on you; torture and intimidation. And you did more than that, didn't you?"

Erik's face flushed.

"Charles, I didn't-"

"Using her memories against her, why?" demanded Charles.

"We wanted information, but we didn't-"

"Psychos," Alex said.

Hank growled in punctuation.

"I never thought, not even in my worst nightmares that you'd stoop to this," said Charles.

"We didn't-" Raven said.

"Don't lie."

Raven tried to say something else when Erik stopped her.

"Who cares if I did or didn't torture her?" Erik shouted, "She's just a human!"

An unearthly silence descended over the assembled mutants. Charles felt something deep in the bottom of his chest. It was painful and harsh, like someone was stabbing him.

"And what are you Erik?" whispered Charles, "What are **you**?" 

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_I recieved a very positive response to the idea for a sequel, so there is going to be one. More on that later._


	17. Chapter 17

There was pain running through all of her synapses. Most of it she knew wasn't that big of a deal, although she had a hard time telling herself that. Yet she knew that burns could heal. Burns were not necessarily permanent. Still, when something so much as touched a burn it flared up in pain. Hank's fur, fur that she was being held against, was abrasive and coarse. She didn't want to tell him that, he seemed to think that if he was gentle enough she would be unharmed. Raising a fuss about her burns when nothing could be done was counterproductive.

It chafed up against her skin as Hank carried her towards the Blackbird. Everyone had stopped talking. The question had taken Erik back. He looked like he had literally been punched in the stomach, stumbling a little. Moira looked at him through the haze of pain she was rapidly recovered from and, despite everything, felt a little sorry for him. Charles' eyes were cold, rage and disappointment mixed together. She didn't know what she'd do if she got a look like that.

His gaze was also directed at Mystique who looked even more hurt than Erik was. She had known him for longer than Erik, had probably grown up with only his approval. Moira didn't know how to feel as she watched the people who looked had so dispassionately tortured her only hours before. They had been allies at one point. She had never been close to either of them, but she had always thought she could trust them-

"_But Magneto and Mystique back there? You used to think you could trust them, didn't you?"_

The words were like a whisper in her head, faint but cynical. Moira frowned. It didn't sound like something anyone she knew would say to her. However, they slipped from her mind quickly. Not understanding she brushed them away, feeling tired. With every step Hank took her ankle was throbbing more and her burns were flaring up. Her side felt like it was on fire if fire could stab into her stomach.

Hank stood next to Charles. He glanced her way and his enraged expression changed into something tender.

_I'm so sorry_, he thought

_Don't be sorry. It's not your fault Charles. _

He smirked bitterly.

_Another time sweetheart. But don't worry, we're going to get you out of here soon. Just…need to take care of this first. _

She wanted to reassure him, but already events were taking thier course.

"I...Charles," Erik said, his face pale, "You know I'm not...I didn't do this!"

"Yeah, I kept up that line right until the prosecution brought out the security tapes," snapped Alex, his fists clenched, "At least I had the grace to back down then."

"Whatever else you may think of me I am **not **Shaw."

That was true; she had never thought that Erik would do this to her-

"_All he did was give you a few bruises around your wrists and ankles and break your ankle by accident. No doubt if your boyfriend comes across you you'll say it happened when the car crashed. Don't deny it, because you don't want him to have to fight his friend. Very self-sacrificing." _

The words were strangely familiar. She struggled to remember where they had come from, grimacing from the effort.

"So you say," Sean said, his whole face a scowl, "Then again, why does it matter? Isn't she 'just a human'?"

"How many times do we have to say it? We didn't do it!" snapped Mystique, "Get it into your thick skull!"

The words were eluding her. Something was wrong with her mind. If she could get Charles' help, he could probably tell her what it was. She reached for his face, trying to get his attention. He needed to be told this; she could tell somehow that it was important. By the time she touched his jaw the whisper had slid from her mind again. He turned and looked at her, clasping her wandering hand.

"Are you alright?" asked Charles.

"I…wanted to say…something…" she murmured, "I forgot…"

"Don't worry sweetheart," he said softly, "Don't worry. There'll be plenty of time to talk about this later."

His tone was calming. He must have thought that her words were spoken in some sort of delirium. Part of her wanted to shake him. Sure Moira was in a great deal of pain, but she wasn't in enough pain to be in a delirium. Everything that happened around her was registering; she was alert no matter what he'd thought. The only reason she had trouble speaking was her broken rib. So despite his words she tried to concentrate and remember what she had thought of.

Sean and Alex were approaching the group now. All of them were lining up, as if for a battle of a sort. Erik's fists were curling and Mystique seemed to be getting ready to go into combat. She felt Hank shift her in his arms, apparently wanting to get her onboard the Blackbird as soon as possible. He kept glancing from the plane to Mystique and Erik, as though calculating how fast he could get her inside and outside of the fire. It was clear that he thought fighting was inevitable and she was inclined to agree with him.

"Charles," said Mystique, her voice calm but her face panicked, "You need to understand, we didn't do this. I don't know what you saw or what you think you saw but it wasn't us."

"_And the really funny thing is Mystique thinks I'm her friend. No, worse, the little snot thinks I __**admire**__ her."_

"I wish to God it hadn't been," Charles said.

The words were slipping away from her. A veil had fallen over them, one that she couldn't brush away. Her head was starting to hurt and she touched it with her hand, wincing. Hank was staring at her now, caught between concern and bracing himself for the coming fight. She kept trying to concentrate despite all of the commotion around her-

"_There was a whole war fought over an officer who got his ear cut off way back when. Called The War of Jenkin's Ear. I won't be quite so mutilating, but this does have to be terrible. Otherwise it won't work."_

This time she held the words, but it was an effort.

"Charles," Moira said, her hand twitching in his, "Read my mind."

"What-" started Charles turning to her.

"Now Charles!"

The shout caused her pain and she gave a small cry. However, it got her message across. With a puzzled look Charles entered her mind. The words were already fading, but she could feel that he'd heard them.

"Who was that?" he asked her.

"…don't know…"

"What are you talking about?" asked Sean.

"Shhh," Hank snapped.

Charles went into her mind again. This time he pulled the voice out entirely. She heard it clearly before it started to slip away again-

"_There was a whole war fought over an officer who got his ear cut off way back when. Called The War of Jenkin's Ear. I won't be quite so mutilating, but this does have to be terrible. Otherwise it won't work."_

"Emma Frost," Charles said, withdrawing.

"What?" asked Erik.

"Did Emma Frost ever say anything to Moira about the War of Jenkin's Ear?" asked Charles.

"What's that?" Mystique asked.

He gave her a fixed look.

"Was Emma ever alone in the room with her?" demanded Charles.

"Yes, once," Erik said.

Moira wondered fuzzily how the scene had switched from a confrontation to an interrogation. Then again, it had been a potential war zone a minute beforehand. Erik seemed more eager to clear his name than fight with Charles. Being thought someone who would torture people like Shaw had tortured him didn't appear to sit well.

"There's a memory in there that's been repressed, then pasted over with another one," Charles said, "Her mind keeps trying to find it but it keeps slipping away. Emma did a good job."

"How do you know?" asked Erik, "And if they did do a good job then why can she remember?"

"I know a thing or two about repressing memories," Charles answered, his focus on her, "But Moira's mind is fighting forgetting the original completely. It's hard to use the same trick on the mind twice. I think I can bring it out if I'm lucky."

His voice was grim and she wanted to reach out to him. Instead he came to her, placing a hand on either side of her face. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mystique take a step forward. Alex turned his body so he faced hers. She stopped. It was obvious that both he and Sean were still suspicious of them.

Charles tilted his forehead until it was touching hers. There was a tingling sensation in her head, and then she saw it all, side by side with her original memory of her torture. They were both compared, but there was a new version that she knew was the right one. Now it was just Emma sitting there, match in hand, while she relived the abuse at the hands of her former boyfriend again and again. The cloth of the gags were choking her, preventing her from screaming.

She started to moan and Charles withdrew his hand. His voice was austere.

"Emma Frost planted that memory," he said, "Erik and Raven didn't hurt Moira; she did."

Charles turned and looked at Erik. His fist was curling.

"She sullied my name? Made me look like…like her beloved Shaw?" he spat, his voice dangerous.

Mystique's face distorted next to him.

"I freed her, took her in," continued Erik, "and she dared to do this to **me**?"

The barbed wire around the wall started to contort wildly.

"WHERE IS SHE!" he screamed.


	18. Chapter 18

Emma was nearly done packing when she heard the sounds of the fight outside the base. She decided then that it was time to go. Sticking around while the walls crumbled was **not **what she had in mind. She took off running down the hall. One of her instincts was to let her skin go to its diamond form for protection, but that would only weigh her down. No matter what she was getting out of that facility right then and there.

What she hadn't expected was for a puff of black smoke a few minutes later. Emma took a step back and Erik and Charles were in front of her. Azazel disappeared almost immediately, leaving the two of them alone in the hallway with her. So it was her against those two again. It was almost like déjà vu. This time when she faced them she wasn't in her underwear, which she supposed was an improvement on the situation.

However, like that time they had both barged in on her when she had least expected it. Azazel hadn't been involved that time, but they probably wanted to do whatever it was they had come for themselves. Emma didn't dare go into Charles' mind, and she couldn't **get** into Erik's mind, but she could imagine why they were there.

This hadn't been part of the plan, but Emma had always been decent at improvising. After all, she was a little early for her pick up. She tilted her chin up defiantly.

"You did this," Erik said.

"Pardon?" she asked.

"You wanted this from the beginning, didn't you?" asked Erik, "Wanted us to fight. You were the one who suggested we take Moira in the first place."

She burst out laughing.

"You're blaming me," she said, "Really?"

"Who else?" snapped Charles.

Emma smiled. She reached into her bag and pulled out a grenade. She'd had this one specially made and shipped by her friend so that there was no metal in it. She held onto the pin happily and smiled at the shocked look on her faces. It always did to plan for the unplannable things in life.

"One of you that makes a move towards me or touches my mind, I pull," she said, "I saw someone do this once, use a grenade to threaten me. The difference between them and me is that I **am** willing to do this. I just want you to know that."

Her smile broadened.

"Let's break down what happened in minute detail," she said, "Seeing as you're blocking my exit and you don't seem to have anything better to do."

Letting her pack fall out of her hand she leaned up against a railing.

"I let Mystique think I was her friend," she said, "You'll recall all that time we spent giggling together like morons Magneto. Such friends she thought we were. I wonder how this is going to affect her sense of trust when she finds out I was using her?"

Erik looked at her angrily and Charles' eyes narrowed. Perhaps she should look a touch less smug? No, that wouldn't do at all.

"And do you want to know what she told me?" asked Emma, "She told me how much she hated Moira who didn't have to change to blend in, who had never been afraid to go to school when she was young."

She waved her hand.

"How much she envied her, how much she hated that someone else had a claim on her brother's attention that wasn't some barroom floozy who'd be gone in the morning," said Emma, "He'd found someone he could be with who could accept all of him while she never would. Not only that but he seemed to almost flaunt it in her face, but he never seemed to notice because of how distracted he became when he was with her."

Emma started to laugh again.

"It was like a soap opera. It was always this this this. How he never noticed that she needed someone to help reassure her that it didn't matter what she looked like."

The words were painful for Charles to hear. She could see that, and was enjoying it. However, there wasn't much more she could talk about without losing her focus.

"So who do you think I suggest to take for information when we need to get into the CIA?" asked Emma, "Why, Moira of course. And Magneto, I'm sure you remembered how hard Mystique lobbied for **her **to be chosen."

Charles gave Erik a questioning look. He didn't meet his eyes.

"And for all your protests that she'd been good to you, that she was one of the few humans who could probably be trusted," Emma said, "You allowed her to be selected. So I found her. And when I told you that I stood outside the gate to Charles' school and got my information that way, you didn't mind. I expected you to protest, but you never did."

She cocked her head at Charles.

"How does it feel that your friend allowed me to glean information from the minds of your students?" asked Emma.

Charles said nothing.

"And, yes, I did torture little Moira," said Emma, "And I did frame your friend and sister for it. I thought I did a pretty good job. Could you tell me where I went wrong?"

At first there was no response. Then she shook the grenade. Glaring at her Charles said;

"The same trick doesn't work twice."

"Of course, you repressed her memories when you sent her back to the CIA," said Emma, "And then she sacrificed her career to keep you and yours safe. She has no stake in your future, and you practically told her she couldn't be trusted when you shoved her out. But she did it anyway, meekly. Sad, isn't it?"

Emma had expected him to get angry over the comment. Instead his face became perfectly blank. Perhaps that was his version of fury? Who knew?

"And when you rush to your precious homo sapien's side after this is all over," Emma said, "You might wonder why she has such intense bruising around her wrists and a broken ankle. Since I don't take credit for work that isn't mine, that wasn't me. The rib was, yes, but not the bruises and teh ankleThat was Magneto getting angry and tightening her cuffs so much that the blood vessels in her skin broke and bones snapped. He wanted to heal the ankle, sure, but he let it happen. Think about that."

Charles looked sick. Her laugh echoed through the hall.

"And Charles, also think about how easy it was for me to get you to come here, all puffed up with righteous anger," said Emma, "Think about that for a minute too. You came in here, guns blazing, and made a lot of accusations."

She frowned thoughtfully.

"You'd grown suspicious of them, don't try to deny it. And, wheelchair bound though you are, you wanted to lead the charge for a war. You yourself wanted to attack your friend and sister."

He blinked at her.

"No, I didn't see when you ran at them," Emma continued, "but I figured that's how it would be. I bet it was spectacular. Did you even give him time to explain what had happened, did you try to dip into one of their minds to ascertain if they had the same memory as Moira?"

The shocked look on his face confirmed her suspicions.

"I didn't think so," she said, "No middle ground. And that, if you're wondering Magneto, is why I want to get away from your ridiculous high road attitude and stupid propaganda."

From behind her there was a puff of black smoke. She turned and saw that Azazel had brought the blue furry one with him. Oh dear. The telepath had called for reinforcements.

* * *

><p>Hank lunged at her but she turned her skin to diamond. His claws broke when they came in contact with her skin, but her grenade dropped, pin unpulled. Erik's eyes<br>watched its descent as her greatest threat against them fell out of her reach. His eyes flickered back up to her and he nodded to Charles. Then they attacked.

Metal pieces flew at her, knocking her back. Azazel had vanished; he wasn't needed but Hank was still there and trying to take her out. Charles was having difficulty getting inside her mind, but he seemed much more capable than last time. His own anger and defensive feelings over what had happened to Moira was apparently giving him the extra power.

Perhaps rage was the way to go then. Yet, he had the feeling that Charles was also using his will to defend those to care about. That was probably more prominent even than the anger that Erik had seen in him in the courtyard. Whatever it was Erik had to admire the fact that Emma looked like she was trying to actively fight him off.

Of course, it wasn't much of a fight. It was three against one. Her fighting moves were only those of a caged animal. This didn't lessen his own viciousness in the battle though. He had been compared to Shaw because of her actions. Her insubordinance could also not be tolerated in the Brotherhood. He wanted everyone to see what happened to traitors such as her.

So while Charles and Hank were trying to bring her down, he was trying to kill her. Of course he believed in the sanctity of mutant life; only to a point though. Emma Frost was going to be an example, and thus the pieces of metal that were thrown at her were bigger and bigger, each one with more force.

Most of them she managed to bat away. Then her eyes lost focus and slid to the back of her head. Charles had finally gotten in. Erik was finally able to knock her through the wall into a room down the hall with a metal beam. Once she was there he hurried there and climbed through the hole. Then he let the metal tighten around her throat.

Behind him he heard Charles coming, so he knew he had to finish this quickly. He wouldn't let his friend see this. He would finally be able to finish what he had started in that Russian villa nearly a year prior. So he tightened it more and more until she shattered all over the floor into a gloriously shining shower.

Charles arrived with Hank shortly after. Erik shrugged at his questioning look.

"I suppose the impact was too much for her skin to handle," he said calmly.

He had expected Charles to ask more questions, but he simply gave a tired nod.

"I suppose." 

* * *

><p>"Wow," said Emma Frost, "That was a really good illusion."<p>

The man standing next to her nodded as Erik stepped out of the room to rejoin Charles.

"The telepath posed some problems. If I had to stretch this out then he definitely would have discovered me," he said.

"But it was just Magneto for most of it," said Emma.

She examined her skin where, in her diamond form, she'd begun to crack. There were minute scars stretching ut in a web all over her. Blood was coming from some of them and she felt it dripping down her face. Emma knew that it would scar; permanently. Her incredible beauty was gone. For now on she'd have to just make people **think **she was beautiful.

Swallowing the urge to scream she said;

"Impressive work. And you arrived just in time. I don't know what would have happened if I had been left much longer. "

"Don't worry 'your majesty'," the man said, "You're eagerly awaited back at the club."

"Only because your position as Black Cardinal depends on my return," laughed Emma, the sound forced, "But don't worry about it Jason. I'll give your position, and possibly more."

"Please," said Jason, "Mastermind sounds so much less normal."

"Alright, but don't make up another pseudonym," warned Emma as the two began to walk out.

"I wouldn't dream of it."


	19. Chapter 19

"Will Moira recover?"

Charles looked over at Erik as they travelled down the corridor that led out of the facility. Hank had been pushing his wheelchair and his head snapped up when Erik spoke. He wasn't the only one. No words had been spoken since Emma had been taken down. Apparently Erik felt the need to break that silence.

"I think that's a question for Hank," said Charles, "He was the one who saw the full extent of what Emma did."

Erik inclined his head to Hank.

"Excessive burns up and down her arms and shoulders," said Hank, his voice clinical but with a hint of anger, "Many of them will scar. Her rib is broken but her lung isn't punctured. It's making speaking hard but it will get better. The same goes for her broken ankle. She'll be on crutches for a few weeks when it can support her weight, but again she'll recover."

"She'll have the best looking after her after all," Charles said.

He saw Erik's lips twitch into something that looked like a sly smile.

"I'm sure she will."

If this were a few months ago he would have laughed at Erik's teasing. Now, given the situation, it seemed wrong. Erik seemed to realize it too, sobering quickly.

"I'm sorry about all of this Charles."

There was a slight hitch in the way Hank pushed the wheelchair. That needed to be taken care of before they spoke. Tapping his finger to his lips he thought;

_Hank, I think this is going to be a private conversation. Please make sure that Moira is comfortable in the Blackbird and safely harnessed. And if you could make sure Sean and Alex don't burn anything down, I'd appreciate it. _

Hank nodded, understanding. He left the handles behind the wheelchair and hurried ahead. He passed Raven in the hallway as she went past him. She gave Hank a nod in acknowledgement, which he returned, before she hurried on. The gesture was much different than how things had been nearly a year ago. It only emphasized what had to be said.

Raven stood in front of Charles and looked to Erik. He nodded at her and she smiled. Only when Hank had rounded a corner were any words spoken.

"I was just telling Charles that we never meant for it to go this far," said Erik, "I'm sorry for what happened to Moira; I'll admit that it was unnecessary."

"It was," agreed Raven.

Sighing Charles shook his head.

"Why are you apologizing Erik?" he asked.

Erik frowned, crossing his arms. Even Raven looked puzzled.

"Because I'm sorry about what happened."

"But you don't," Charles said, "She's just a human to you. You said so yourself; twice."

"Oh Charles," sighed Raven.

"I was angry," admitted Erik, "You know I don't see them as our equals. But as an example of humans I'd say Moira is the best."

"The best example of a lesser species."

"Why are you trying to twist my words around?" asked Erik.

"I'm not. I'm just trying to say that, while you might be upset that she was tortured to that extent, you thought it was acceptable to kidnap her in the first place," Charles said, staring his friend in the eye.

Next to him Erik started shaking his head.

"Logical as always," Erik said, "But I didn't know you were together. None of us did."

Raven looked down and squirmed.

"I…Emma told me," she said, "I didn't say anything to anyone. But I didn't mean for-"

"No. You just wanted to erase her from my life entirely after this," said Charles, his voice taking on an edge.

She looked up, startled.

"Emma told Moira that," said Charles, "and I read her mind. While I appreciate your concern I have let you live your life. I would appreciate it if the courtesy was returned."

He stomped down on the anger that was threatening. There was no need for him to get angry at his sister.

"It doesn't matter much now," he said, "But you're still missing the point. It shouldn't have mattered if I loved her or not. And believe me, I do love her."

He ignored their shocked stares.

"You see, if this was any other CIA agent or human than I doubt you would have cared at all if this happened."

"There wouldn't have been any torture, not like this-" started Erik.

"Erik, friend," Charles sighed, "I know that. And I know that you didn't do this. I know it was Emma's fault. And I know that you probably killed her too. I won't ask about that. It's over either way. But…some of the things she said made sense."

"You can't be serious," said Raven.

"Unfortunately I am," said Charles, "You weren't there to hear Raven, so you may not understand. We both broke the other's trust. You let your agents come to my school. You took Moira, even if you were manipulated. Please acknowledge that."

Reluctantly Erik nodded. Even Raven gave a tight nod, but he could see how unfair she thought it was in her eyes. At least that was over with.

"I hope I'll never have to ask you that again," Charles said, "nor any question like it."

"I hope so too," Erik said, looking down.

The stabbing sensation returned to his chest. At least he still knew the man and woman beside him, although not as well as he once had.

"And I don't lay all the blame on you," said Charles, "I too am at fault."

Erik started to shake his head again but Charles continued;

"I should have at least asked you. But the moment I saw her hurt I couldn't calm myself down. I felt betrayed over what I thought happened, out of my mind with worry over her, and anger over the situation. I didn't want to listen."

He could still feel that his friend was getting ready to deny this.

"You know I didn't listen to you."

"You didn't," Raven said.

"No hesitation from my clever sister," Charles laughed, although the sound pained him.

Fighting back tears he stared at the ceiling. What he was going to say next would hurt even more, but it had to be said.

"On my way here," he said, "Someone said something to the effect of; 'they took Moira. I don't think that's the act of people who want to be friends anymore'."

He gave them an even look.

"I had hoped, after a time," he said, "that despite our conflicting ideologies you would give up on your radical scheme, or at adopt a middle approach. Or, more likely, our bonds of what we had done when we first recruited would be too strong to allow us to fight."

Each word felt like bile slipping out of his throat.

"I see now that it was a fool's hope."

"It isn't," said Erik, "If you could only see that they won't let us coexist with them then we'd both be on the same side."

"I'm sorry Erik," Charles said, "But I won't ever see it that way. I will never see that coexisting as an impossibility."

He shrugged.

"Just something that I believe."

"But we shouldn't be fighting each other!" Erik insisted, "We can't!"

"I think today proved that we **are** able to fight each other," he said, "No, not only able, but willing."

Prepared for Erik's response he shook his head.

"And don't say the humans forced us into this, because I believe that it's the way that we think that forced us into this battle. Right now we're under a temporary truce because of the events of tonight. But it won't be for long. I believe we're going to be enemies soon because of our different ideas. I don't know the means with which you will try to acomplish your goals, but I know they involve violence. And I will try to stop you if it comes to that."

There were words that Raven and Erik wanted to say, he could tell. One of his hands raised to silence them so he could finish. It was hard enough without interruptions.

"But…I believe there are going to be times in between," he said, "Times when there is no fighting to be had. When one scheme ends and we're not bitter that the other stopped it. Maybe even when one of us is incapacitated. Then we will find time to let things be like they were."

Surprisingly there were no tears in his eyes anymore. He felt…almost serene.

"And I believe that I will cherish those times," he finished.

Silence spread over them. He saw that Raven had started crying behind her hand. Erik swallowed and looked away.

"I hope the chess set is still there," he said finally.

"It will be," Charles assured him, "It will be."

His hands went onto the wheels of his chair. Raven's hand shot out to stop him. He looked up at her and gave a sad smile.

"I'm going to miss you," he said.

She didn't say anything, just knelt and hugged him. He hugged her back, determined to hold this picture of her in his mind no matter how she changed in the years to come. Raven released him and went to stand by Erik. His friend held his hand out. Charles shook it firmly, looking Erik in the eye. During each of these gestures he knew that the next time he managed to do any of these things could very well be never.

Managing to nod at both of them he turned around in his chair. With his back facing them he pushed himself to the exit, not so fast as to run away but he didn't want to linger there. Their footfalls made him think that they had turned and left at the same time as he did. Charles was never completely sure though. He never looked back. 


	20. Chapter 20

_We won't say our goodbyes you know it's better that way  
>We won't break, we won't die<br>It's just a moment of change  
>All we are, all we are, is everything that's right<br>All we need, all we need, a lover's alibi- All We Are, OneRepublic_

* * *

><p>"Bye Ms. MacTaggert!"<p>

Moira leaned in the doorway and waved as Doug ran with his backpack towards his parents. They were waiting for him, his suitcases next to them. The winter holidays had come and with them bitterly cold weather. New York had colder winters than what she had been prepared for, growing up in the warmer states.

Most of the children were going home, but some had deigned to stay. Charles had agreed and not pried as to the why of thier actions. Among them was Hank. Unlike the others he had been articulate about his reasons; he hadn't been ready to face his parents with his changed appearance just yet.

Sean had returned home, feeling completely happy about his progress in both school and with his mutation. However, he hadn't done so before saying a long and tearful goodbye to Maeve. He had even asked Moira's advice on what to give her, unsure of what a good Christmas gift for a girlfriend would be. She'd directed him to a world that he had heretofore shunned; jewelry.

Alex had followed suit and returned to his parents. He kept talking about how much fun he was going to have with his brother. She secretly hoped that Scott would prove to be quieter than Alex. Otherwise she didn't know how the school would be able to stand it. The school was in good repair and she was sure spoke for the whole staff when she hoped that it wouldn't be burned down the next year.

Doug continued waving before his parents ushered him into the car. He jumped in and waved again before they shut the door. His parents, whom she had shared a few words with earlier that day, gave her a wave and got into the car too. Doug seemed perfectly happy to be leaving the school, but he had seemed happy when he was there too. To her it was the sign of a good first term.

For a long time she had been worried about Doug. He had been intensely frightened by his encounter with Erik and Azazel. Doug had actually burst into tears when he found that she was alright, hugging her but being careful of her injuries. However, he seemed to calm down as time had passed. He was now once again the cheery boy that she remembered. Moira was glad that the incident had left no real scars.

She couldn't say the same for herself. Some of the burns hadn't left scars, but most of them had. White dots of varying size were speckled up and down her arms and shoulders. In her more humorous times she had thought of herself a bit like a baby deer. In her worst moments she thought of herself as looking leprous.

"Sweetheart?"

Turning her head she saw Charles behind her. Then again, he never let her feel self-conscious for long.

"Seeing Doug off?"

Moira nodded. She observed his coat and scarf suspiciously.

"Getting ready to go outside?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I interfered with one of Hank's science experiments. I deduced that it would probably be best if I erny out for a while," he said, "But in my defense the fibrous membranes that Hank was designing did look and smell an awful lot like gingerbread."

She laughed.

"Sometimes I don't know if you're the wisest, oldest, and most mature soul that I've ever seen," she said, "or a little boy who keeps getting his hand caught in the cookie jar."

He grinned at her and cocked his head.

"Do you want to come with me? You are dressed for it," he said.

Moira was. She had been inside and outside the whole day, saying goodbye to students. Her heavy coat was on, buttoned all the way up. She even had gloves on.

"You must be planning to go out. If you're not then why are you bothering to keep the door open?" asked Charles, "You'll let in a draft."

"Like you said, I was just saying goodbye to Doug," she said.

In the distance the engine of his parent's car started up. They watched together as it pulled out of the driveway.

"He'll be back in two weeks," Charles said, "They all will. And then the school will be as noisy as ever."

"A shame in some ways," said Moira, flipping her head back, "Two weeks will be just enough time to get used to the silence."

"Perhaps," said Charles, "So, what do you say to actually going outside? Just for a little while."

She smiled.

"Alright, just a little bit. Then we've probably got to get back inside."

Moira opened the door so he could pass through. Once his chair had cleared the doors she took the handles on the back of his wheelchair.

"I can do that myself," he said.

"I know," answered Moira, "but I want to."

He nodded at her, giving her a small smile. It started to snow as they progressed and talked about the plans they had for Christmas at the school. They had already put up a tree in the foyer. All of the students had made one ornament and hung it there. A Secret Santa program had also been organized for those remaining at the school. There were a few other things that they wanted to do, namely for those who celebrated other holidays, but for now there was a lull in the activity.

Moira had already gotten Charles his present and had it wrapped and hidden. He'd been complaining for several weeks about how he could never find a pair of cufflinks when he needed them. So she'd gotten him some silver ones with an 'X' engraved inside it. She found it funny, 'X' for Xavier, X-men, X the unknown variable, and the X-gene. 'X' was for everything in thier lives now.

Hiding gifts from a psychic was difficult though. Since the event a few months prior she had allowed him to read her mind a little more. As a precaution she had had Hank hide them for her. He'd give her a note with its location that she'd open on Christmas Eve. Moira figured Charles would take that as a clear sign that he should stop prying. She could only hope so anyway.

Soon they reached the spot where she had stopped with him over a year ago and he'd sent her away. It was inevitable; it was where the path led. She hesitated there. Charles seemed to recognize it too, and to know what she was thinking. He coughed nervously.

"We can turn back now," he said.

"No," said Moira, "It's nice to get out of the mansion for a bit. We can go a bit further."

"At least stop for a minute," he said, "I know your foot isn't fully healed."

"It's healed enough to walk around," she argued.

"Hank says you shouldn't try to exert yourself too much," said Charles, "I wish you'd use the elevator we installed more as it is."

"It's never in the right place for me."

She definitely felt that he was over-exaggerating. True, she had been in bed rest for a few weeks. That had a lot to do with her ribs though. It had been a nice break, students and faculty alike had brought her flowers and candy. The boys had been frequent visitors and Charles had been a particularly attentative nurse. It must be due to his nurturing nature.

After that she had been on crutches for a week. When she had gotten off of them her foot still hurt. Charles had continued to try to take care of her though, constantly worrying about her. And she knew why. The sad smile he gave her whenever they finished arguing about how easy she should take it gave everything away.

"It wasn't your fault Charles," she sighed.

With an almost amused look he reached back and took her hand.

"I'm afraid that I have no idea what you're talking about," he said.

"You know what I mean," Moira said.

He gave her a sad smile that she was rapidly getting used to.

"Sweetheart, whether it's my fault or not I'll always feel guilty," Charles said, "I won't be able to stop harboring those feelings deep down just because you tell me to."

"You should," she said.

Charles rolled his shoulders back and turned his eyes away from her.

"I'll forgive myself for what happened when you forgive yourself for the beach."

With a deep sigh she knelt beside him in the freshly fallen snow. Moira took his hands in hers. While her hands were gloved, his weren't. A little irritated at their lack of contact, which she was sure would elicit a response, Moira removed her gloves. Then she took his cold hands into her still warm ones. He turned back to her then.

"You forgave me for that though," said Moira, "and that's all that matters in the end."

"But I never said you were to blame!" he argued.

"Exactly," said Moira, "Saying that's just another form of forgiveness. It's more subtle, but it's forgiveness all the same."

Instead of answering he looked away.

"I'll try," he said after a time, "That's all I can guarantee."

"That's all I ask."

He brought up one of her hands to kiss before looking over the grounds.

"When I first told you that I wanted to set up a school here," said Charles, "I wasn't sure it was going to work. There were times when I was frustrated, when I thought that it wasn't going to happen."

Already her hands had turned cold in the air. Moira wasn't paying attention anymore though. Smiling with contentment Charles said;

"But it did. It all happened. Now we're sending those children off on winter vacation. And they'll come back next year, and the year after that. It may exist my whole life, maybe longer. So if I'm lucky then I'll be able to spend my whole life doing this job."

"You are lucky," said Moira, "I'm sure you will."

"I am," he agreed, "But I have to ask you something."

"Oh?"

"You see," Charles said, his voice heavy and ponderous, "if you're lucky, where do you think you'll be in ten years?"

She cocked her head and looked up at him. There were no undercurrents to the question, just a brutally honest urge to know. Her hands were now numb in his but she didn't care.

"Ten years," Moira said, rolling the words over her tongue as if to taste them, "Ten years. Where will I be in ten years…"

Moira smiled.

"Hopefully I'll be helping Alex's little brother Scott find his Algebra book or tutoring him with the other kids," she said, "Or, from what I've seen of the Summers boys, helping him clean up an explosion in his room."

His eyes were shining. Slowly he closed them.

"And hopefully, if I'm as lucky as you, we'll be like this," she said, "And we'll be able to come to this spot and laugh about what happened."

She clasped his hands tighter.

"And I'll have your hands in mine."

Although his eyes were still closed he looked down.

"Why?" asked Charles, his voice lost and helpless, "I know you love this school, but you don't have to be with me to stay."

"I know," said Moira quietly, "I'm not with you because I don't want to leave. I'm with you because I love you."

"But I can't give you anything. If...if we were to stay together I probably couldn't even give you children."

He shook his head when she tried to say something in protest.

"Don't deny it," Charles said, "I've seen your mind; I know how badly you want them. But I won't be able to give you that. All you would have is-"

"You," she finished for him, "You asked me a question Charles and I gave you my answer. Nothing's going to change it; that's where I want to be in ten years. I can see it, can you?"

A single tear fell from his eye. Charles opened his eyes again and stared into hers.

"Yes sweetheart, yes I can," he said, his voice low, "And that's why I think you should look at your hands."

Moira looked down. A diamond ring had been slipped onto her finger. Her hands had been so numb with cold that she hadn't noticed. She looked up at him.

"So?" he asked.

She reached up and kissed him. Charles' arms wrapped warmly around her. He held her close as the snow continued to fall around them.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_And that's All We Are! Thank you to everyone who reviewed and gave their support, and a special thank you to 02AngelBaby75, 1010, and actressen. The sequel, Sins of the Father, should be up in about a week. Here's to Charles/Moira!_


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